The Galaxy of Terror
by Fannon Cannon
Summary: Let's give those Multiplayer Characters some personality. Follow the exploits of the N7 Destroyer, Fury, Paladin, Shadow, Demolisher and Slayer as they fight the galactic war, interacting with all the other Multiplayer races.
1. Team of Forts

The N7 Destroyer was, to be fair... a destroyer. Built like a tank and encased in a suit that was also built like a tank, he traded in the total and utter destruction of his foes. Never one to deal in halves, the guns he carried weighed an elephant each and were equally capable of packing as much of a punch, as many of his enemies had found out.

His enemies that today, happened to consist of hideously mutated Reaper forces. The mere sight of even the scrawny little husk way up to the gargantuan brute like... brute; was enough to fill his vision red with wrath. The Destroyer's temper was at a maintained high all throughout this damn war, if the constant peril he faced on a daily basis wasn't enough, then there was the thought of his home planet, Earth and the sight of all those Reapers mutilating virtually everything he held dear in his childhood. It was the least he could do then, to inflict as much suffering upon the grotesque horde as much as it had done upon him.

Encasing his hand fully around the shrunken blue head of a husk, the Destroyer took some pleasure in squeezing tightly and watching the tiny thing shrivel and crack under the pressure, sending the now headless humanoid to the ground. Finding himself with a rare moment of silence, the Destroyer took some time to bask in his accomplishment, small and trivial as it was, observing the blood blue spilling from the decapitated husk of a... husk.

He may have gotten a little carried away, breathing heavily, for the giant of a man failed to notice the blunt side of a rifle strike the base of his armoured neck, knocking the wind out if him and sending him to the ground. Turning on his side, he noticed the Marauder, readying it's scavenged rifle, aiming at the vulnerable Destroyer.

Well this was quite the sticky situation, he found himself in. This was certainly set him back a fair bit, the Marauder was probably the smartest unit in the Reaper ground forces, and at least understood how to mock the militaristic nature of the Turian. The Destroyer could have easily reclaimed his gun and return fire, or activate his Omni-Tool and give the Marauder a furious face full of fragmentation. But it would be too little, too late as the Marauder would get him first, so he simply braced himself for the modestly painful volley.

But he did not feel it, as just before the Reaper soldier could unleash it's load, it felt an unpleasant sensation shot straight through it's chest as a sword... shot straight through it's chest.

The Destroyer felt the faint blood of the Marauder splash his thick armour. The Marauder felt something a little heavier then that, and before it's hollow mind could comprehend the strange familiar feeling, it slid of the blade to the ground, it's cybernetic form completely unresponsive.

Standing stoic but proud over their kill was a figure clad in armour similar to the Destroyer, but much, much smaller in stature. The N7 Shadow returned their sword to it's holster strung across their back, observing the giant Destroyer on the ground.

"Thanks mate." The Destroyer droned in his American drawl, buried beneath his heavy helmet.

"What do you mean mate?" The Shadow snarled back with suspicion. Muffled beneath their helm was a noticeable voice thick with a German accent, but more importantly, a very distinct female voice.

"Yeah yeah. Thanks, Fraulein." The Destroyer barked back, taking to his feet again.

He didn't need to hear voice to understand the gender of the Shadow. If her annoyingly distracting acrobatic flips all over the battlefield weren't enough, those equally noticeable bumps on her chest were enough to remind him.

The Destroyer found this particular style of fighting to be more then bewildering. The places they fought were often nightmares drawn straight from hell itself, if the Reapers would have their way, they would see the entire galaxy like this. Yet the Shadow found time to dart to and fro between Marauders, Husks and Ravagers like a ballerina, her sword like a conductors baton as it cleaved flesh and metal in equal folds. Nothing at all like the cumbersome grenades and missiles of the Destroyer, all the while keeping up her usual tone if snark.

The Destroyer reloaded his gun, all with the dexterity of a brute, whilst the Shadow, rarely dependant on such weapons herself, simply flipped her form in another direction, her tactical cloak activating, and she shimmered out of sight.

The Shadow manoeuvred around the battlefield at a much swifter pace then the Destroyer was capable of. It only served for her to be much less of a target then he was. Where the Destroyer would brutishly roam at cumbersome pace, relying on his heavy suit and immense arsenal to deal with threats, the Shadow applied finesse wherever she could. True, she could not dish it out as much, having to pick out targets from the cover of the cloak, relying upon her mastery of the blade to strike where she could inflict the damage required.

Disposing of a few husks with relative ease, the Shadow had precious little time to feel good about her deeds before she felt energy pellets graze into her side, curtesy of a few hideous cannibals, she hasty activated her cloak. But even then the Reapers weren't nearly as dense as she gave them credit for, as the cannibals continued their assault, firing at midair with their weapons.

Now for the hard part, the Shadow thought to herself as she analysed the scene; getting up close and engaging the cannibals. Since she lacked any range worthy for this little skirmish, she carefully worked her way to the mutilated Batarians, the Shadow readied her sword and, when she was within reach, broke her cloak and brought the blade down across the back of the closest one.

The fleshy metal hide of the deformity came loose, spilling blood and guts from the wound and striking the cannibal dead. A clean kill, or at least clean as she could make it, the Shadow tried to make a rapid withdrawal, but the Reapers must have been on excellent form today, as the closest cannibal to it's fallen brethren took a wide swing and brought it's maw of a mouth to bite at the Shadow. The light armour protected the human from the attack but knocked her off balance and almost punctured the material completely.

The Shadow fell to the ground in a reassuring tumble, the wind knocked out of her. This she was used to, having delved into thickets if enemies on a daily basis, but unlike the Destroyer, she did not possess the endurance to take beatings line this at such close range. It certainly presented the challenge for her to get out safely, until...

The remaining cannibals were preparing to descend upon their fallen human foe, roaring with lust and delight at the potential meal, until a shape rapidly manifested in the middle of them. Two of the standing three were blown a good ten meters across the field as a purple figure charged at them, whilst the last one standing prepared it's firearm to counterattack, but another sword slashed horizontally at it, decapitating it dead.

The N7 Slayer stood firm over the devastation he had caused the enemy. Cannibal blood stained the ground, and if he could smell it through his helm, the stench was almost unbearable. It was only after a moments notice that he noticed the Shadow, who had jumped back to her feet in a flash.

"Oh sorry there, Shadow." He exclaimed cheerily. "Didn't see you there."

The Shadow was not at all happy to be rescued by the Slayer of all her teammates, especially if he due it unintentionally. The two of them had something of a rivalry over the use of swords, and every time she saw him stab or slice a foe, it was particularly hard on her pride and skill.

"Danke." She thanked him half heartily, before activating her cloak and skidding off.

"Au revoir, Mademoiselle." He called out to her, his proper tongue all the more present.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, the Slayer was drawn suddenly by the few cannibals that he had sent flying, for they were beginning to stir. Quite irritated at not doing the job proper, the Slayer took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, concentrated deeply again and flung himself in a deep purple haze of biotics, slamming into the group once again. As he came out of the charge and into reality again, he noticed he had hit much harder then he needed to, as the cannibals were now lying disembodied across his feet.

Satisfied with his work nonetheless, the Slayer took to the field once again. While he may not have been as capable of matching the Shadow in speed, what he lacked for in acrobatic flips, he made up for by being able to compress himself into a solid biotic form and crash into enemies to excellent effect, as his earlier dash had indicated.

Quite the sensation to be honest. Mastering the use of biotics the way he had in his brutal training as a N7 candidate had proven hard indeed. The human body had proven more then resilient to the use of biotics, but hearing the more cautionary tales of biotic charges gone wrong was enough to unsettle even the strongest of stomachs, like the Slayer's.

Darting around the battlefield, contending with the cannibals and marauders with relative ease, the Slayer soon found himself in the path of one angry brute. Now he wasn't too keen on krogans himself, having gotten into the occasional verbal fight, which was not a particularly safe thing to do as the scars would prove. But to see what they would become when under the brutal jaws of the Reapers, the Slayer couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for what was once a proud race, all too familiar with their current state.

Needless to say, while he could do a mean biotic charge, it was something that paled in comparison to the charge of a brute. And he wasn't looking forward too much to be on the receiving end of one, so when the hideous gargantuan beast leapt at the Slayer, it was by a lucky biotic dash that he narrowly avoided a painful bash.

But he was by no means going to retreat from the beast, even if he wasn't equipped to be dealing with such a foe. The Slayer felt however, that the shotgun clench firmly in his hands would do the trick, so when the brute snapped round to lunge at him again, he let off one slug before dashing sideways in a purple blur yet again.

The Slayer may have been a little cautious, but he couldn't help but feel that the Reaper beast was growing weary with his constant dashing to avoid it's jaws. When it turned to face him again, instead of preforming another charge, it started to pace slowly towards the human, soaking up the shotgun shells he fired at it.

The Slayer paced back to keep a respectable distance between them. But in his focus on firing at the beast, he had neglected everything else, and soon felt something sticky and sickly jump at him, bursting on impact. Turning round, he noticed a group of those little swarmers crawling their way towards him. And if there were swarmers, then there would be...

The Slayer performed a mad biotic dash to avoid the incoming projectiles of the Ravager, dodging them with some ease. But soon found the brute preparing to make another leap at him. Concentrating in a flash, he dashed to the side yet again, but the constant use of biotics without respite was starting to strain on him and he felt the giant claws of the brute swipe at him as he preformed his clumsy dash.

Coming out of it, the Slayer found his protective barriers to have been completely word out by the use of biotics and the brutes attack. The Reaper beast on the other hand, showed no signs of weariness and only seemed to grow more determined to see the human dead it longer it kept resisting. Retreating from the beast to buy time for his barriers to recover, the Slayer's predator only pursued him unrelenting.

A gratifying feeling swept over the Slayer, as the implants in his body stirred and his barriers sprang to life once more, giving him much needed time to finally deal with the brute, which was preparing for yet another charge. A strange vigour stirred in the Slayer, as a crazy idea to finish his foe brewed in his mind. The brute started to lunge at the human for what would be the last time, as the Slayer concentrated yet again and charged straight at the already charging brute.

The timing could not have been more perfect. The Slayer phased right through the beast, emerging unscathed where it had begun it's charge, while the brute swept at thin air, now with a painful sensation in it's chest. But still alive. The Slayer was now immensely weary simply from the sight of the beast, which was once again sluggishly turning to face him yet again.

Now he had to finish this. The brute looked weak, parts of its metal casing hung loosely to the flesh, as the creature limped towards the Slayer. One more shell ought to do it, he thought, before he reloaded and aimed to finish off the predator once and for all. But before he could do so, a figure manifested directly in front of him out of a dark blue biotic splash, aimed one heavy biotic kick at the incoming brute and knocked it flat on it's back, dead.

"Oh Fury, stop stealing !" The Slayer pleaded exceptionally irritated.

The N7 Fury spun round to face the other biotic on the team.

"Oh sorry, didn't see you there." She perked up, before giving a quick wave and dashing off in a blue blur.

"Now I know what that feels like." The Slayer remarked bitterly to himself, before he too took off.

The Fury was the appropriately named genius of a biotic on the team. If the Slayer already felt like the Shadow was giving him a run for his money in terms of swordplay, the the Fury's prowess with biotics was another issue of concern. But then in a war as devastating as this one, they needed all the best that humanity had to offer, petty competitions be damned, this was a fight for the survival of the entire galaxy.

Not that the Fury was one to focus on problems as big as a galactic war might offer. True it was hard for the Italian to leave Earth in the hands if those Reapers, especially with fellow soldier still stranded there, and true when all seemed dark it was hard to imagine that things were all the more capable of getting worse. But when you're infused with so much biotics that you can't help but literally glow with pride constantly, you tend to forget that there's something other then killing Reapers, and that one day, all this may soon be over, whether you'd like that or not.

So the Fury would simply turn into a blue biotic cloud, as if all those concerns and doubts would dissolve in the wind every time she did so. Nothing at all like the Destroyer, all holed up in that tin suit, moving at a snail's pace, as if all his emotions were bottled up beneath the metal, and when the Fury saw him stomp his big stomp, it was as if he was releasing himself of a swirl of bad thoughts.

Dashing to and fro, remaining in one spot for no more then a second at most, the Fury knew nothing outside of inflicting as much pain on the Reapers as possible. And for that, she couldn't help but feel that she was doing really good, or at least the best she had done all week. Maybe it was her biotics, her speed, or her ability to focus on the task at hand.

Disposing of a marauder with ease, the Fury wasted on time in getting on moving on, hardly going to find the sight of one dead Reaper anything to cause concern about. Closing the gap with a wretched bloated ravager, it too was disposed of with ease, its swarmers that spilled out proved no match for the heavy biotic field that shrouded the Fury. The cannibals creeping up on her were another matter, having closed the gap and now within a good range to deal some proper damage. The Fury turned to face them but before either party do anything, the cannibals suddenly froze into ice statues, before a heavy Omni-Tool shield descended upon them in a heavy blow and shattered them to pieces.

"I could have handled that." The Fury pointed out at her teammate.

The N7 Paladin paid her no heed, simply deactivating his cumbersome shield of pure energy and simply stomping on one last shard of frozen cannibal.

"Da." He proclaimed in his thick native tongue.

"Yeah well, Ciao." The Fury uttered before she took to the field again in a blue dash that was needlessly showing off.

The Paladin wasn't nearly the type of soldier that indulged in the flashy fancy stuff that biotics could offer. Maybe it had something to do with him capable of freezing enemies into until they snapped but something or other about him made him a little... cold. It certainly could have had something to do the heavy shield he could wield with such precision, knocking heads and skulls from their pedestals.

It was as he was going about this joyless activity that he heard an awful screech. Awful in every sense of the word, even for the Paladin buried beneath his heavy armour was enough to stir a feeling between fear and exhaustion. It was the blood curdling battle cry that belonged to the toughest of the Reaper forces.

The Banshee, though the Paladin suspected the Reapers didn't name their forces as such. Even so, it was hardly a comforting thought what name they went by diminished their fearsome reputation. Deciding to pick up the pace and find a more sturdy teammate, preferable the staunch Destroyer, but crossed one corner and a found a big purple blur dart in front of him, before the tall, fearsome mutated Asari manifested before he very eyes.

He could at least be grateful that the banshee was slow in it's movements, and managed to dart behind another corner, avoiding the biotic projectile the Reaper monster threw his way. Turning back, he utilised the brief period of inaction on the banshee's part to open fire, realising how little it would effect the beast but it was all he could do at this part. He knew full well how foolish it would be of him to try and get in close and engage the monster the old fashioned way, unless he wanted to be on the receiving end of one of it's piercing talons.

Perhaps he took the banshee's slow notions a little too generously, for it soon shot out another blur of blue biotic badness in his direction, catching him before he managed s chance to retreat to cover. His shields were completely blown away in one worrying spark and now the biotic plague was threatening to send him inti darkness. He could hope that it would wear off before such a thing happened as he scrambled to put as much distance between himself and the banshee, which began another one of those irritating teleporting warps in his direction. Now he was in quite a perilous position as he darted as best as his weary feet would take him. Up and over a hurdle of cover, the Paladin imagined this would be the end of him, but one immensely satisfying sound brought him back.

It wasn't the regenerative sound of his shields snapping back to life, but rather a downplayed attempt to resuscitate them, the small respite enough to pull him to life. Observing his saviour, the Paladin found a small pylon emitting the electric sparks that were sustaining his shields. And attending to the pylon was...

"Thank you, Demolisher." The Paladin made his appreciation known, but was suddenly bitter that he did not known his teammate on a first name basis.

"Don't mention it." The N7 Demolisher responded quickly, still attending to the pylon to provide her with grenades, her prime damage dealer.

The Demolisher was used to receiving thanks from her teammates on an hourly basis. It might have awarded her with some satisfaction, but the novelty had soon worn off within the first few skirmishes if this war. It wasn't really her they were thanking, it was really those handy dandy supply pylons she was so adept at setting up and providing them with shields and ammo.

And so the Demolisher and the Paladin engaged the oncoming banshee, that was now upon them. The Paladin fired his rifle, while the Demolisher threw grenades without thought for accuracy. While they were doing significant damage as a pair, the monster refused to relent, and forced the Paladin to retreat, while the Demolisher was a little slow on the uptake, being so dependant on tanking down with her pylon for support. She may have been a little more slower, or maybe the banshee was really good, but it was upon her in a flash, and what it did next the Paladin was all too familiar with.

The immense clawed hand came down to grasp the armoured neck of the Demolisher, and lifted her right of the ground with little ease. Now the Paladin was overcome with a very different feeling then that of coldness. It was one of determination and responsibility, to get the Demolisher out of that beasts claws before it drove a talon through her chest and impaled her dead. It was he that brought the banshee here, and her that had sustained his shields from the brink, so he would be damned if it was he that brought death upon her.

So the Paladin closed the gap between them, and without any regard for himself started to pound on the banshee that held the struggling Demolisher in its deathly grasp, activating his shield and hoping in vain it would drop before it stabbed.

The Reaper beast was momentarily distracted by the Paladin attacking it, but it did not drop it's captive Demolisher. Instead it's other giant hand, primed for impalement, came down upon the armoured human, knocking him off balanced. The hand then returned to the Demolisher, prepped to shot through her chest, but the banshee was distracted from it's kill once again, when it noticed the Demolisher inches from it's face held one last grenade in her palm and activated it.

That was enough to make it drop it's prey, who landed at it's feet, armour badly burnt from the blast and neck almost crushed to a pulp. The banshee still persisted, letting out another shrill shriek, and was preparing to unleash another biotic pulse. But at that moment, it felt the painful sting of a missile hit it's side, before a volley of pellets followed suit, and the banshee crashed to the ground, disintegrating into blue mess.

The N7 Destroyer stood proud over his kill, taking a moment to reload his rifle, before attending to his dazed brethren.

"You're a damn lifesaver." The Demolisher said weakly, owning to her wounded neck.

"Third time today." The Destroyer replied dryly.

The Paladin was in a much better state of wellbeing then the Demolisher, whose armour was, for lack of a better word...demolished. A swipe from a banshee claw was nothing to worry about, it was be complaining next to the Demolisher.

The Destroyer analysed the scene, noticing a few scraps of the Reapers still remained. Another group of husks were making their way towards the trio, but the purple blur of the Slayer rapidly formed in the midst of them and they went flying. Another group consisting of cannibals and marauders were descending from the left, but the two figures of the Shadow and Fury manifested technologically and biotically respectively. Swords swung and biotics burned and the group was swiftly dismantled.

Only a few scarce Reapers remained, consisting of a ravager and two brutes, each a fierce fight on their own, but against the combined six battle hardened N7 specialists, they fell in no time.

And thus, the day was won. As the shuttle arrived to evacuate the team, the six souls were far too preoccupied with resting to bother discussing the events of the day, each knowing full well how they had performed. They had done good, very good, but they could hardly start handing out the medals yet. For one thing, coming across a Systems Alliance medal with the entire Sol System under enemy control was something difficult, but perhaps more pressingly, there was no shortage of Reaper forces left in the galaxy.

Still, with their lives full of war, it was something special that they could still feel like they had done good work, even if it was a fleeting feeling. They had done well on their own, but together, they were only sort of unstoppable. And only short of invulnerable.

To split them up would be foolish, right? 


	2. Goodbyeee

In the deep of Council space, shrouded within the Serpent Nebula resided the Citadel, the beating heart of the galactic community. However, being in such an isolated location, the Citadel had a very strange unreality to it when compared to the virtual hell the rest of the galaxy was going through right now. The Reapers may have been swift and ruthless in their assault on the Milky Way, but had only slight underestimated the fortitude of their would be hosts, as they had yet to break through and penetrate the Citadel itself. Yet, if they had it their way, this place would have been the very first thing to fall, so maybe the many denizens of the galaxy could feel some comfort in their ignorant bliss.

For the Destroyer, standing on one bridge of the wards, overlooking the artificial serenity that the sunlight and lakes could offer him, he did not know what to feel. As of the present moment, he didn't feel quite like a Destroyer to be fair, as a result of enjoying one of the few precious days he wasn't holed up in his tin can. He could at least appreciate the view, realising how many scarce few places in the galaxy one could be right now, and look up at the sun, and not have their image spoiled by the sight of a gargantuan Reaper ship, or the smell of burning corpses, or the feel of the ashes burning the ground beneath their feet, or the bitter taste of blood and iron in the air.

It certainly was a strange little isolated paradise, the Citadel. But as the Destroyer had to remind himself, it may be separate from the rest of the galaxy, but it wasn't cut off from it, as the many hospitals and clinics were proving, with many wounded pouring in from the conflict, but not all finding the luck to come back out. Or perhaps the docking bays, where many couples would be saying their goodbyes to one another, uncertain of what the future would hold, in addition to the little refugee ships pouring in with some sad story about their home planets and colonies being raised or bombarded with little survivors.

Was he a refugee, the Destroyer pondered to himself as he observed the idllic scene with his hands rested on the railing. He didn't exactly have a home to call his own, and whether or not he stood a chance of returning to the only one he knew was entirely out of his hands. Everything was out of his hands, and that was the way he preferred it; for he was no Admiral but a Destroyer, he could not lead, he could only destroy. He was perfectly happy to simply encase himself in his metal machine and shoot, stab and stomp on anything resembling something he didn't like, just so long as he could rest up at the end of the day and feel like he had achieved something. Bur despite such a determination wrought of stone, the Destroyer could not suppress the feelings of anger and wrath that plagued his mind as he observed the world through his visor.

He missed Earth, he admitted to himself. He really did, as any human with a good life on a good home should, especially now. He knew it wasn't a nice place prior to the invasion, one or two minor environmental issues certainly spoiled the view in addition to the overpopulation that had spread up. But it was his home, and the Destroyer just happened to be immensely fond of his home, do the thought of the Reapers doing god knows what to it was just enough so that, when the Destroyer was out on the fields contending with the Reapers, the thoughts of those monsters raping and mutilating what he held dear was enough to burst through all the walls he had put up in himself.

The Destroyer's left hand clenched the metal railing in a tight grip, while the right shot up and slammed it. He had let his feelings get the better of him yet again, and now he was finding the Wards, with their artificial sunlight and lakes to be insulting. There was nothing artificial at all about the sun and water of Earth, yet what hope did he have of ever laying eyes upon the calming waters of the Atlantic, so tranquil yet deadly when provoked, or feel the warmth of the star Sol. Now he longed to be out Destroying things once more if he could not be allowed such comforts.

He thought to himself of the Reapers and their ground forces, particularly the husk, the synthetic devolution of the human, such a proud diverse species always up for whatever challenge the galaxy had to throw at them, never one to back down or know when to quit. Yet under the scalpel of the Reapers, they were but canon fodder, having to be dictated where to go, always following the leader of their clever marauders and banshees. And it drove the Destroyer mad to think that that was to be humanities fate, it's pinnacle of evolution.

He would have gone on like that for a while longer, but just then his Omni-Tool bleeped to virtual life on his wrist, a pop-up reminding him of the reason he was on the Citadel in the first place. As much as he tried to enjoy the view, there was no forgetting the war that raged on outside their little garden in space. Maybe it would do him some good, to be in the company of his teammates again. If he couldn't suffer of Earth on his own, then there was some measure if comfort to be found in suffering in the company of his comrades. So, giving a light tap of the mechanical gadget to shut it up, he took off for the Embassy offices, trying his best to appear leisurely instead of bitterly.

* * *

Arriving at the door that led to the office, the Destroyer only needed to knock once before he was permitted entrance by the Demolisher. Briefly pondering how odd it was that the action of knocking still existed in the twenty third century, before he was drawn by the ensemble of men and women he joined.

A line up of six humans, their genders split evenly was hardly anything special. From the hulking Destroyer down to the hunched petite Fury, they were diverse enough, but all bore one universal factor. That of a strong physical build, honed from the rigorous training that N7 offered. As the brass would have described them, they had survived the most gruelling and enduring combat situations "in an admirable and effective fashion", worthy of respect and honour amongst the entirety of the human race.

Of course, despite whatever custom hell they had all gone through, it never could have prepared them for the very real hell the Reapers had exhibited. But whatever opinions they had on that matter would be subsided for now, as the Quantum Entanglement Communicator they were all assembled in front of them fizzed to life as the figure of another human manifested in the blue light.

Admiral Steven Hackett didn't nearly have the physical traits that the N7 operatives shared. But after everything he had presided over in his term during the Reaper invasion of Earth was enough that they respected him for it nonetheless. They may have gone through their share, but they had not known the burden that was the command of leadership. But he wasn't here to tell them that.

"Apologies for not appearing in person, with everything going on back here, I hope you can understand." He addressed the company as modestly as he could be.

"Completely understandable, Admiral." The Destroyer replied in equal tone.

"Well I'm afraid you may change your tone when you hear what I've got to say soldier." The Admiral replied with heavy caution.

There was not a lot the small band of soldiers hadn't heard that was particular good. But the prospect of things going from bad to worse was not an entertaining prospect.

"I just got out of Arcturus." The Admiral continued, before taking a deep breath. "I'm afraid... Arcturus Station is gone."

Now that was the kind of news that the team was dreading. When Earth fell, the station would have been humanities next line of defines against the Reapers.

"Aw hell!" The Demolisher exclaimed.

The rest of the team were along the same lines, but weren't nearly as vocal. The Destroyer on the other hand, didn't find it nearly as much of a shock, realising how close Arcturus was close to the Sol system, it was practically an open target for the Reapers.

"Wait a minute sir." He expressed. "Wasn't Alliance Parliament stationed at Arcturus?"

"I'm afraid they were." Hackett replied grimly.

Now the Destroyer could feel like the rest of his teammates. The future of humanity wasn't looking all that bright from their perspective.

"Well what now Admiral." The Slayer asked pleadingly of Hackett.

"Are you familiar with the Crucible, men?" The Admiral in the blue communicator addressed the group.

The band shrugged amongst themselves with looks of confusion.

"A Prothean device of some sort." He explained. "We don't know for sure what it will do, only that it might just be our last ace. We're putting everything technical wise into it."

This news was met still with some confusion. All the small band had done so far in the war had been fighting Reapers without so much as a thought as to what was actually being done to counteract them.

"So what do we do sir?" The Paladin was eager to know.

"Keep fighting." Hackett explained. "But there's been some developments regarding that."

Now that had piqued the ensemble's interest. These were matters they could understand, all this fighting and war business, leave all that Crucible stuff to the men in charge.

"Right now, we're formulating a summit." The Admiral continued. "With Earth and Arcturus gone, we can't do this by ourselves. The other species are moving forward, but the Reapers aren't wasting time in engaging them."

The group listened intently, their fate resting in his words.

"And it's for that reason." He said, taking a deep breath. "That you're being split up."

That caused quite the reaction from the band of six, for understandably good reasons. It wasn't something loud or noticeable but rather in their body movements. The Destroyer simply bowed his head to the floor, a million thoughts going through his mind, the Slayer took a few steps backwards, before he fought his own battle to find his feet. The Shadow muttered some German curse under her breath, while the Fury turned to find a seat feeling weak in the knee, and the Demolisher took a deep breath but managed to maintain her orderly posture. Only the Paladin showed no signs that the news had effected him in some measure. If it wasn't from his usual manner to emote, it was likely because he had entertained the notion in the past, and in some ways had expected it.

"May I ask why?" He addressed Hackett after a while, and the rest of the team all looked towards the Admiral, eager for his next move.

"Things are bad here." He explained. "Not just for us, but for the rest of the galaxy. Unlike us, they still have their home worlds intact, and they intend to keep it that way before they commit to taking Earth back. And with Arcturus gone, that leaves you as the last N7 operatives, which makes you the best humanity can offer..."

"Oh come now, Admiral." The Shadow quickly interrupted him. "Let's not kid ourselves, we all know you mean second best."

Hackett was taken back by her comment, and the rest of the team could see where she was coming from. As N7 candidates they certainly were some of the most important humans in the galaxy right now. But they really were over their heads if they forgot who the real number one human in the galaxy was.

"You're right, I apologise." The Admiral corrected himself. "But you are vital soldiers, and that's what we need right now. So you'll be spread out, put into teams consisting of other races and dropped into hot zones where the fights the thickest."

Now the Admiral was talking their language again. Sure it was nice to be thought of as important humans in the galaxy, but the team was much more concerned with what their role in the war would be.

"What other races sir?" The Paladin eagerly asked.

"Well the turians and asari need all the help they can get." Hackett continued. "The salarians aren't too forthcoming but they've put forward some STG members."

"And the others?" The Destroyer urged him.

"The krogan have sent a few soldiers but the majorities bunked down on Tuchunka. We've also got batarians and volus..."

The Shadow let out a very discernible laugh.

"There a problem, soldier?" Hackett asked her with suspicion.

"Did I hear that right?" She asked. "Am I to understand that the err, the volus are gonna be helping us fight Reapers?"

"That is correct." Hackett replied stoically.

The Shadow was speechless, a first for her. And with good reason, for she was a N7 Operative, capable of felling cannibals and marauders in copious numbers with her sword. From what she had seen of the volus, they would have trouble stomping out a little swarmer, let alone facing down brutes and banshees.

"Did I miss something?" She asked confused.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." Hackett said. "And the volus happen to be excellent biotics and engineers."

That silenced the Shadow, at least for the time being.

"What about the quarians?" The Demolisher asked eagerly.

"No word on them yet." Hackett said.

"No word on them yet?" She repeated back, with audible concern.

"What about the geth?" The Paladin followed.

"Nor them." Hackett replied quickly.

"Right." The Paladin accepted.

The matter of the quarians and their A.I. creations was more then enough for the team to feel slightly concerned about, and with the galaxy in such a delicate state right now, it could have been a bad omen. Whatever was going on beyond the Perseus Veil however, was far away and hardly of concern to them tucked up on the citadel.

"There is however, one other thing." Hackett continued. "Concerning... Cerberus."

Another such reaction was prompted from the group yet again. Just like the quarians and the geth, the issue of Cerberus was up in the air, yet somehow, it felt a lot closer then they were comfortable with.

"We don't know what they're planning, but they've started engaging us." He explained.

The Destroyer felt a small outburst in him as soon as he heard that, and to great effort, he managed to stow any signs of anger at Hackett's words. Cerberus was a whole different faction then the Reapers, they were human, and yet they were against humanity. He couldn't help but feel anger at the state his beloved species found itself in, and all of a sudden, it was like being stick in his metal death machine again, with all those feelings bottled up within his mind, just waiting for the chance when he would finally burst...

"I'm afraid thats all I have for you." Hackett said, and the Destroyer suddenly realised he wasn't breathing, so caught up in his rigid emotional position, but catching himself and reminding himself of the Admiral.

" You'll receive your briefs tonight, you'll ship out first thing tomorrow." The Admiral came to the end of his address.

It would have struck the team as a shock that they only had one more day together, but after all their precious shocks, it was greatly diminished.

"I hate for it to be like this, but we don't have the luxury of time anymore." He said. "Good luck to you all. Hackett out."

And with that, the Admiral faded from the view, the Communicator going silent.

"Good luck sir." The Shadow called out to the empty device. "I think I need a drink."

"I'll join you." The Demolisher joined in, and the two of them left the office promptly.

"See you at the docks." The Slayer said before he too took his leave.

The Paladin didn't say anything, but simply gave a short nod before following suit, leaving the Destroyer alone with the Fury, who had remained stationary at her table. The Destroyer was finding it difficult to move, with everything he had just witnessed, leaving him in a sort of stunned position, while his teammate sitting at the table was in a similar position, but at least she had support.

At last the Destroyer moved towards the table, moving at a n awful rigid pace, for it was hard for him to control his hands. Resting them on the tables surface, he became a stature again, leaving the Fury to wonder anxiously about his next move, unsure of what she could comfort him with. She was soon answered by the giant man slamming a giant fist down on the table, causing her to jolt from the impact.

"Ah sorry."He did his best to appear calm. "It's just that... I really wasn't expecting it to get worse."

"I know." She said quietly. "I wasn't either."

The Destroyer stood in his rigid position for some time, before the feeling returned to his legs and he slowly eased himself into a chair.

"You gonna be alright?" The Fury asked with concern.

The Destroyer bowed his head, taking his breathes as long and deep as he could. It was quite the strange sight for the so inappropriately named Fury to be so calm and so minuscule next to the huge Destroyer who look like one breath away from exploding. But with some effort he managed to form an answer.

"You remember N7 right?" He asked in a surprising serene manner.

"How could I forget." The Fury mused.

In truth, with everything going on, she hadn't thought much of what life was like prior to the Reapers. And considered it a blessing, for the nostalgia alone was enough to cause disorientation on the battlefield. Yet still, the training may have been gruelling, but at least it wasn't the Reapers.

"Y'know." The Destroyer continued. "When it was all over, do you know how I felt?"

"How?" She asked curiously.

"I felt damn indestructible." He said with some pride about him. "I remember coming out of the villa, and standing feeling the sun on me. And I remember thinking just how tough I felt, like pure... diamond or something, completely unbreakable..."

He lost his voice as his mind trailed off, remembering a happier time. The Fury could only share his delight, for it truly was one of the proudest moments if their collective lives. A time when they had gone through hell and emerged hardened and resolute because of it. Could the same be said of the war they now found themselves in, it wasn't like they could just excuse themselves from it. It certainly was hell, but unlike their training, there was no clear idea if how it would all end.

"Y'know what's really scary." The Destroyer brought them both back to it.

"What?" The Fury struggled to let out, still caught up in her indulgence.

"I think that there's some part of me." He began. "Deep down, that wants this war."

To the Fury's alarm, she couldn't help but feel the same way. N7 training was the most brutal thing they could have ever imagined going through, so what other then a Reaper war could top it.

"Does the most of you want this war?" She uttered, making a good attempt to appear bright, but still showing obvious signs of distress.

The Destroyer went silent, almost as if he hadn't heard her. Inside, he was starting to feel restless again, and started to long for the feel of his metal armour, with his fingers around the grip of an assault rifle, or perhaps better yet, clenched around the frail head of a husk. He felt the unnatural urge to crush something, an urge to keep to his namesake, and his hands, resting on the table, were starting to shake with subconscious excitement at the prospect.

It was at that moment that the Fury reached out and placed one hand on the shaking Destroyers, practically dwarfing hers with the sight of them together. Trying her best to appear as comforting as possible, she gently caressed them, and slowly could feel the shaking subside as the Destroyer started to breath at a regular pace, as he kept forgetting to do.

A sudden weariness was upon the giant man, maybe as a result of coming to terms with everything he had heard today, or maybe through her gentle touch, through which he swore he could feel the tingling of biotics. Nevertheless, it was a welcome change from his prior feelings, and it gave him time to ponder briefly as to the intentions of the Fury to be doing this.

It wasn't exactly an action he could expect from the Shadow, whose fingers would only be comfortable gently caressing the sharp length of a blade, or from the Demolisher, who was hardly one to keep her fingers in one place, contend to examine the workings of complex machinery. Maybe from the Slayer though, he was always a forthcoming person to all, though it would hardly be in the same way the as the Fury's delicate touch. And there was a laugh or too to be had in entreating the thought of the Paladin preforming such an activity with anyone.

Still, it was a comforting gesture nonetheless, and with they had been through and had yet to go through, he remembered how important it was that he cherish such moments. The Fury may have been many things, a deadly biotic, exceptionally fast, but there was one thing she was not. She wasn't his teammate, she was his friend.

"If you don't mind." He said at last, in a much more world weary tone. "I'm pretty tired now. I think I'll call it a day."

And just like that, he slowly got up from his seat and made his way to the door. As it slid open, he gave one last look towards the Fury, almost doting on the prospect if staying, until he turned away and was blocked from her view as the door slid shut.

The Fury sat in her chair for a good long time after that, appreciating the silence and serene like atmosphere, knowing all to well of how slim the chances were that she could enjoy another moment like this. Unlike the Destroyer, she didn't feel too put off by how much the Citadel was isolated from the rest of the galaxy. But as she got up and strolled over to the balcony to get a good view, she couldn't help but feel that the immense station was living on borrowed time. Sooner or later the war would come right up to the Council's doorstep, whether they were ready for it or not.

She could only hope she would get another chance to visit before that came to pass...

* * *

The Paladin arrived in the docking area of the Citadel, and was struck by a thought as to why he had come her specifically. After the meeting, he didn't really know where he was going, perhaps the Slayer's parting words had simply stuck with him to fill the empty gap in his head. Now that he was here, he could at least pause and analyse the situation.

Even at such an early stage in the war, he could tell the docking bays would be the place of the Citadel where the war would be creeping in ever so slightly. A sizeable group of refugees had made the motley camp their home, most of them batarians at this stage and for obvious reasons. The Paladin had heard what had become of the batarians home world, and while they weren't his least favourite race, especially considering he was a human, he couldn't think of a more poorly prepared race for the Reapers to hit first.

But there were humans too, and suddenly it struck the Paladin that out of all the races in the galaxy, it was the humans and batarians, who had such a violent past that ranked with the salarians and krogan, that had lost their home worlds. He couldn't help but feel remorse at that, and he had no idea of how to react. If just the very next day, he would be calling a batarian a teammate well, that felt very uneasy to him.

His trail of thought was distracted by the tap on his shoulder. Turning round he found the Slayer observing him with some puzzlement, and it just struck the Paladin of how out if place he looked in the crowd.

"What's bothering you?" He asked, having a keen eye to know when his comrades were troubled, and even though the Paladin was his usual stoic resolute self, he could see there was something on his mind.

"Just thinking." The Paladin remarked quickly.

"Well about what?" The Slayer edged him. " Come on I'm not telepathic."

"No, but you are biotic." The Paladin pointed out.

"...Yeah not the same thing." The Slayer replied awkwardly.

"Well." He began. "I was thinking about the batarians."

The Slayer instinctively glanced over to where the batarians had made camp, a depressing sight.

"What about batarians?" He continued to press his comrade.

"Well, just how much they've been through." The Paladin mused. "Makes us feel spoiled a bit."

"You hear about the Bahak system?" The Slayer asked.

"No." He replied puzzled.

"Some remote batarian colony on the edge of the galaxy." The Slayer explained. "Apparently, it was where the Reapers were supposed to come through much earlier then intended. In order to stop them, Alliance apparently blew up the Mass Relay, completely destroyed the colony and three hundred thousand batarians."

The Paladin went silent at the news,quite shocked by it to say the least. The batarians really did have it worse off, and now it looked like, if there was to be an end to this war, they wouldn't be seeing it.

"They say." The Slayer added. "The decision was made personally by... you know who."

"Who? Oh." He replied with initial confusion, before realising the human the Slayer was referring to. "Figures, they've done everything."

"They sure have." The Slayer agreed.

The two silently stood observing the batarians for quite some time, while the Paladin couldn't help but feel all the more sympathy now. As well as regret for all the previous ill feelings he has bore towards them. They may have done some horrendous things, but nothing he could see that warranted what the Reapers had inflicted upon them. As for humanity, he couldn't help but feel anxiety that the Reapers has only just begun to cause suffering for them.

The Slayer must have been thinking along similar lines, as his next question indicated.

"You been thinking about Earth?" He posed with concern.

The Paladin looked at him with some suspicion, for his queries were braking through the his usual stoic demeanour, any moment now he might start to display more emotion then he was comfortable with. But he supposed he could indulge him further just a little bit more.

"Only a little." He remarked. " Can't be too concerned with that, there's not a long we can do about that."

"I know that." The Slayer responded. "But doesn't it provide motivation."

"Motivation?" The Paladin asked disbelievingly.

"Well you know, motivation that we might see it again someday." He explained with a strange sense of hopefulness.

The Paladin simply looked at him again, and the Slayer was starting to become uncomfortable himself with the way his comrade kept observing him with silent suspicion.

"I don't need motivation." The Paladin said at last, quite bitterly and sounding almost offended.

The pair returned to their quiet watch over the events of the docking bay. The Paladin was grateful for the change, having grown weary by now, while the Slayer was starting to feel awkward being in the same spot for too long. Eventually, he couldn't bare it no more and the feeling to do something active became too much and he was starting to worry that he may end up spontaneously biotically charging, adding another needless layer of commotion to the already tense scene.

"Well I think I'm going to take off." He said at last, giving a stretch feeling in the mood for a good run. "Au revoir."

"Au revoir." The Paladin repeated lazily watching him go off, appreciating his absence but funnily enough, not looking to fond to when they would be making their farewells tomorrow.

The Purgatory bar hadn't seen much attention before the Reaper invasion. Of it's like, there were many scattered around the Citadel, none of them anything special beyond their recreational use. But now, in the early stages of what looked like one long and immensely brutal war, the bar was receiving much more attention then it had in the past, though for much different reasons.

As the Demolisher made her way through the crowd, carefully considering the drinks she was carrying, it was a very strange atmosphere to her. There was partying, there was much merriment and there was still a vibrant dance mood, it was not the usual scene of carelessness that dominated every party goer prior to the invasion, but rather one of forgetfulness, and she could certainly see why. If one little drink was a it took for her to forget the war she was in, then drink she would, but even the most potent liquors weren't enough to rid her mind of the feeling that everything could all be over tomorrow. And frankly, she didn't have a good reaction to hangovers either.

Finding the table at which the Shadow sat, she set both herself and their drinks down, realising how surprisingly good it felt to finally rest herself after all the standing and walking she had endured today. Taking her glass, she gave a modest sip, grateful for the taste and wanting to savour it as best she could, knowing full well how far and few her liquor intakes had been as of late.

The Shadow, on the other hand, was not one to partake in her teammates steadiness. As soon as the glass was within her reach, she sized it in one and took one big gracious mouthful that left it half empty (or half full).

"Whoa easy would you." The Demolisher spoke to her cautiously.

"Look here Demo."The Shadow announced. "I have no intent of going to bed sober tonight."

"Well fair enough." The Demolisher cut in. "But if you're gonna get drunk, could you do it on your own money.I bought that remember."

If it wasn't out of concern for her teammate's wellbeing, then the Demolisher reasoned that she watching her out of concern for her credits, still wanting to keep that item relatively high.

"Well when you put it that way, I just I can watch it for now." The Shadow replied politely, though likely out of a note not to spend too much herself.

"So what do you think of the place?" The Demolisher asked her, wanting to move the discussion away from credits.

"Well it ain't no Afterlife." The Shadow mused, taking a moment to look around the bar.

"You've been to Afterlife?" She asked, pleasantly surprised.

"Once or twice." The Shadow replied. "Still, maybe that's a good thing."

The Demolisher took another careful sip while the Shadow gazed longingly at her glass, a small debate going on in her mind as to whether she should down it in one or try and follow the Demolisher.

"Are you going to miss me?" She suddenly asked.

"Eh, what do you mean by that?" The Demolisher asked a little puzzled.

"Well it's not going to be the same, is it." The Shadow started. "You gonna miss the old times we had?"

"I'll have to see." The Demolisher responded. " But yeah, I guess I'll miss you. Will you me?"

"Hmm." The Shadow muttered to herself, taking her glass in her hand but not doing anything with it. "I guess so."

"How about the rest of them, will you miss them?" The Demolisher asked.

"Well certainly not the Slayer for sure." The Shadow said very reassuringly.

"Uh huh." The Demolisher muttered, knowing full too well of the sword rivalry the two of them had going on. "What about the big guy?"

"Well I don't know." The Shadow replied. "If I'm lucky, I might end up with a krogan and not feel like he's gone"

"Or you might end up with a volus." The Demolisher said cautiously.

The Shadow responded giving her a dark look, before lifting her glass to her mouth and finishing it in one, as if trying to wash away the ironic prospect.

"I'm going to miss all this." She mused looking down her empty glass.

"Are we back to this again?" The Demolisher asked irritated. "What is it with you, you're never this serious."

She had a point, the Shadow was never one to have such a nostalgic outlook on life, simply preferring to keep her distance from such things with a manner of snark to her.

"Guess I've just been thinking too much." She pondered thoughtfully. "About life and death."

The Demolisher could see where she was coming from, but it didn't make her seem any less peculiar.

"You afraid of dying?" The Demolisher asked with concern.

The Shadow continued to look down her empty glass, as if there was something deep and meaningful about it she could relate to her own thoughts.

"Guess I am." She said at last. "You?"

The Demolisher surveyed her teammate with a cautious eye to her.

"You know what." She began. " I think you're better off when you're drunk."

The Shadow was overcome with a very different feeling now, one of giddiness and excitement, before the Demolisher downed her glass in one slightly painful gulp and got up to go order them some more.

Returning shortly after, the Demolisher carefully observed her drink, wondering perhaps whether she should have ordered something a little less potent, really loathing the idea of waking up the following morning with a wretched headache. The Shadow on the other hand, was practically licking her lips at the prospect, but suddenly remembered that she may have been abusing her teammates willingness to fill her up with liquor.

"Well." She said. "What should we drink to?"

"Err." The Demolisher said awkwardly. "How about the Crucible?"

"The what?" The Shadow replied before remembering the brief time Hackett had spent on the topic. "To the Crucible, then."

She raised her glass to her teammate.

"May it do... Whatever it's gonna do really well." The Demolisher replied clumsily before she raised her glass to the Shadow's.

The Shadow wasted no time in bringing her fill to her mouth and commencing. The Demolisher watched her as she looked down her own glass, pondering whether it would be a good idea to follow the Shadow's reckless lead, but deciding that she simply didn't have the stomach for it, and so took another careful sip.

The Demolisher proved right in her instincts as she supported the Shadow, who was acting like anything but a shadow on the way back to the apartment they shared. Having one N7 Operative drunk on the eve of battle was barely acceptable, but two would almost certainly be pushing it. The Shadow clung to her arm, afraid that if she let go she would stagger about like the clumsy buffoon she already was, whilst poorly lamenting her state in her native tongue in equal poorness.

"Verdammte Alkohol." She slurred bitterly as they meandered back through the Citadel.

"You said it." The Demolisher agreed, struggling to keep the balance of the two whilst starting to feel embarrassed by the poor image the Shadow was giving her at the moment.

"Oh... I'm... Traurig, sorry Fräulein Demo... This stuff goes through me like glass." The Shadow continued her incoherent ramblings, and the Demolisher sincerely hoped her apologetic tone was genuine, as she was starting to ache from the weight of the Shadow on her shoulder.

It only took another ten or so minutes of the two to make it back to the privacy of their apartment. The Demolisher would have liked to drop the Shadow straight onto the bed and call it a night, but she preferred to clean her drunken self up now rather then wait for the morning. So she marched the Shadow into the bathroom, pit her face down in the sink and turned it on, the woman under her screeching in the dizzying cold of the running water.

Leaving her in her blind state, the Demolisher retrieved some nightwear for her teammate, quite bewildered by the fact that she was doing this before returning to her, hoping she wasn't in such a state that she had drowned. The Shadow had done no such thing, but was now sitting in the middle of the bathroom in a baby like state, shivering slightly.

"Try to get yourself dressed, I don't want you to fall asleep in here." The Demolisher told her throwing her her clothes.

"Oh you are a saint Demo." The Shadow replied gratefully before the Demolisher left her to get ready for bed herself.

The Demolisher disrobed herself, a great weariness upon her and her head spinning slightly from the drinks she had consumed, a modest dosage that paled in comparison to her friend who now emerged from the bathroom stumbling slightly as she tried to manoeuvre on her own two feet. The Shadow would have most likely fell flat on her face had the Demolisher not been there to see that she could to the bed safely. Tucking her under the covers, the Demolisher was confident that she no longer needed to help her, abs turned to head for her own bed, but was drawn from it when the Shadow suddenly placed a hand upon her arm.

"Hey Demo... Hey Demo." She slurred but the Demolisher could sense she was trying to be coherent. "Will you stay here tonight?"

"Well of course I'm staying here tonight."The Demolisher said gesturing to her bed just a few feet away.

"No. No." The Shadow struggled to get out. "Here, here."

She removed her hand and placed it on the bed.

The Demolisher wasn't sure how to react to that. She reckoned that it was the alcohol talking, but for some reason, she couldn't help but feel that there was some sincerity to the Shadow's words.

"Please." The Shadow repeated.

On any other day, the Demolisher would have just chalked it all up to her drunken state and politely refused. Yet, with things being the way they were, and with this being the last night they would together for a long time, possibly forever even, she felt it was the least she could do to her friend. So she climbed into the bed, the Shadow making room for her before she suddenly bore her arms round the Demolisher in a protective embrace.

"I love you girl." She uttered.

"Sleep it off." The Demolisher warned her, knowing how unlikely it was that she was being honest.

"I'll miss you." The Shadow continued.

"...I'll miss you too." The Demolisher said longingly.

The Shadow has no more words to say, simply resting her head on the Demolisher's chest before her breathing became deep and she drifted off.

* * *

A very different atmosphere hung over the shuttle ride the next day. All six soldiers were decked out in their metal armours and battle suits, their faces all hidden from each other once more, but it didn't stop them from expressing themselves differently.

The Destroyer leaned against the bouncing wall of the small transport, head ducked and in a resolute posture while the Fury sat in the corner, taking occasional glances in his direction when she suspected he wasn't looking. The Paladin sat next to her, one seat separating them in a hunched pose, deep in thought while the Slayer, standing close to the Destroyer pacing on the spot, felt awkward when he reckoned the Paladin glanced at him. The Shadow sat opposite the Paladin, fingering the edge of her drawn blade (much to the bother of the Slayer), but had cosier up to the Demolisher, who had an arm around her protectively.

It wouldn't be long now. Just a few more minutes, then they would be getting out, going their separate ways, and soon, millions of miles across the vast oceans of space would be between either of them. Every head felt like they should say something, but couldn't quite decide on what would be appropriate. As N7 Operatives it was their duty to be professional leaders to the rest of the races, for the rest of humanity to look up to. But between each other, they all found themselves speechless.

Eventually they felt the rumble outside as the shuttle docked into one of the Alliance huge starships. Anxiety built up in the Shadow and Fury, nervousness crept to the Paladin and Demolisher, while the Destroyer and Slayer were simply glad to finally see some action. The door opened, and the team stood up, braced for what awaited them.

"See you next shore leave then." The Destroyer spoke.

"Try not to get killed." The Slayer joked.

And with that, the ensemble stepped out of the shuttle, a few more goodbyes made through their movements, before they each strolled off, to find out what the galaxy had in store for them.


	3. Demo Supervision

**Think I may have gone a little overboard with this chapter. If you are a fan of long ones like this, I'm sorry to say the next might not even be half as long as this one.**

* * *

Another shuttle ride awaited the Demolisher, who now found herself in almost the exact same position that she was only a moment ago. Here she sat in one more shuttle identical to the one she had left, sitting on one of the seats against the wall with nothing but the vibrating feel and the soft rumbling noise as the small vehicle made it way across the galaxy riding along the waves of a mass relay. The Demolisher sat patiently, as best she could but realising how restless she felt, a million and one thoughts filling her brain concerning a thousand and one different topics.

The shuttle was the same, that was for sure. Except, it was empty, save for her and the pilot busy with the steering, no five solitary figures occupied the small space with her. Instead, she would soon be joined by three very different figures of whom she had no idea about. She had read her dossier like a good Demolisher, but it lacked the details concerning who her new teammates would be, probably out of a want to surprise her, she imagined. The Demolisher was not the type for surprises, preferring instead to know full well in advance who she would be saving the life off, and who would be saving her life.

All she knew was that there were to be many more Reapers to fight. Reapers, the Demolisher thought to herself as she sat there; everything seemed to have something to do with Reapers. After her short respite the previous day, trying to adjust swiftly to the issue involving Reapers was hard enough for the Demolisher. At such an early stage in the conflict, she wasn't sure of what to feel in regards to Reapers, maybe relief at the thought that she had well adjusted to their sight and was no longer in danger of being surprised. Or perhaps a feeling of dullness at the fact that she had become more then aquatinted to the sight of them.

The Demolisher had spilt more then enough Reaper blood in her few engagements where she had faced them. Cannibals, husks, marauders, brutes and the rest of them had been shot by her rifle, punched by the heavy explosive blow of her Omni-Tool, and blown into many an assortment of mutated body parts by her two distinct use of grenades. She had done her share and realised that there would be much more left to do. Yet she couldn't help but feel weary of it already, even when there were times where she has been just mere inches away from the cold hand of death, there was a very routine aspect to it, like she was experimenting with a formula or something.

Maybe this new set of strangers to fight alongside was just what she needed right now. Though the Demolisher did care for her fell human soldiers, and wished them all the best, she couldn't help but feel that perhaps she had grown to depend on them just a little too much. Now with the prospect of a very different trio of aliens, the Demolisher could certainly see the challenge in that. There would be one of two barriers to overcome, the one she found easy enough was fulfilling her role as an accomplished Demolisher on the field. She had come to rely on her supply pylons as if they were her own children, wrought into synthetic shape by her delicate organic hands.

There was nothing the Demolisher liked quite like being in the comforting safe zone of her supply pylon, constantly dishing out a steady supply of ammunition and grenades for her to go to town with. And it made her the centre of attention when the need arose for her teammates. She had almost lost count of the amount of times the Destroyer had grunted a reply of thanks when he retrieved much needed ammo, or when the two of them had argued over who got the grenades. The time when her little contraption had saved the life of the Paladin by sustaining his shields was a particular proud moment for her, and gave him an excuse to free her from the banshee's grasp. And the Shadow...

The Demolisher looked to her right. It was the same as where she had been sitting in the other shuttle, except there was a lack of the presence of the Shadow sitting next to her, resting her head on her shoulder with a look of small tranquillity on her face. And beneath her helmet, a single tear crept down the Demolisher's face, surprising her to a good degree. Maybe it had been a mistake being so forthcoming with her friend the previous night, rather then close a door, the Demolisher felt that she had inadvertently opened one. And that puzzled her, for it was not something she could rationalise away as being the result of the alcohol or the pressure of the war.

It was something much more then that. Like some kind of outside influence had gone straight through her metal armour, delving through the cloth and skin into her heart, and plucked a single string that she was surprised could be plucked in the first place. Sitting there, the Demolisher felt several more heartstrings starting to create a soothing melody within her frame, replacing the growing anxiety in her stomach about what lay ahead with a very different feeling, one of growing concern for the Shadow that resided at some place miles away, and hoped that whatever she was going into, she would see it through safely.

At that strange sensation, the Demolisher starting fidgeting in her seat, trying to find anything that would occupy her other then the growing worriment for her friend, for there was nothing she do about that. She got up and started pacing, drawing her rifle and going over it with her fingers examining it for any faults, finding it to be a soothing meditation for her. But then she started breathing heavily in her helmet, suddenly aware of how tight the oxygen was in the little shuttle. The Demolisher got herself into such a fit that when the pilot called back to her, she jumped a little, forgetting that he was even there.

"We'll be touching down on Sur'Kesh any moment now ma'am." He announced.

Sur'Kesh. Sur'Kesh? Why was the Demolished landing on Sur'Kesh, that wasn't where she would be fighting Reapers. It took her much longer then needed to come to the conclusion that this would be a short pitstop, a pickup before the shuttle would be taking off again, this time with an additional passenger. So the Demolisher settled back down in her seat, the feelings within her subsiding for the moment and a growing anticipation now about her.

* * *

Soon enough, she started to feel the sharp descent as the shuttle made it's way down to Sur'Kesh. The name of the planet was barely a clue, and much more like a dead giveaway. Eventually, the Demolisher felt the vehicle come to a complete halt, observed the doors opening, and sure enough, a salarian hopped into the craft.

The Demolisher stood up, eager to make the acquaintance of her new teammate, before she noted he had an odd expression about him.

"Human, I presume?" He asked with some puzzlement.

"Correct." She answered, before she realised that through her suit of metal, it was pretty hard to identify her as such.

"Leret Teriakee." The salarian introduced himself, offering a hand.

The Demolisher was taken aback, not from his forwardness with her, but by the fact that he had given her his full name within seconds of greeting her. She herself had grown so accustomed to being known only by her occupation or by the Shadow's affectionate nickname " Demo". Yet here was a complete alien of whose entire existence she was aware about for roughly a minute, and he had already presented himself as formally as a salarian could have. It took her a good long time to respond to him, debating whether to reply in an equal manner, or simply keep things as professional as she could at this stage, quite a comforting thought. But eventually, the need to make a good impression outweighed her other personal need and she introduced herself for what felt like the very first time.

"Grace Cohen." She said, taking his hand in a firm but respectable shake.

"It's a pleasure." Leret replied, before turning to face the outside of the shuttle, giving a wave which was followed by the sight of the doors closing and the feel of the craft taking off once again, urging the two to take a seat.

The Demolisher settled herself back in her old seat, while her salarian teammate sat down opposite her.

"Oh I almost forgot." He exclaimed. "That's actually Leret Teriakee, STG."

"Grace Cohen N7." The Demolisher introduced herself again.

"N7?" Leret responded. "Hmm. Worthy position. Good to know I'm in safe hands."

"Well I hope I can live up to your expectations." The Demolisher mused thoughtfully.

"Shouldn't be too difficult." Leret dismissed her concerns. "With Alliance in the state it is, people of your caliber must seem like valuable assets."

"Must be." She noted, feeling nice to know how well he held her in high regard.

"Still." He continued. "Don't get the impression that I'll come to rely on you too much. Do you have any special capabilities that I should know about?"

"Well." The Demolisher began, a glow of pride about her. "I'm tailored to defensive purposes. Got good support skills such as area of effect damage with my grenades and I can lay down a mean supply pylon."

"Supply pylon?" Leret asked eagerly.

"Yeah." She replied, before getting up to move over to the section of the shuttle that housed a good selection of the tools. Returning with one, she allowed Leret to examine it in it's folded form, carefully reminding him not to activate the device, lest they be left with the small havoc it would unleash in the cramped shuttle.

"Interesting." He said as he examined the little contraption. "Though I'm sorry to say I will have little need of such a device myself."

The Demolisher noted the long sniper rifle he had brought onto the vehicle, and made the link that he was most likely built for the sneaky stuff that she herself was not the type for.

"Still. Other team members may have use." He pondered before allowing the Demolisher to return the device to it's place.

"If you don't mind me asking." She said as she settled back down again. "What's it like back on Sur'Kesh?"

"Hmm, tense." Leret began. "Uncertain. Dalatrass would prefer we stay out of the fight, but STG m realises threat Reapers pose. They will not discriminate. Is only matter of time before they descend, now that you ask, haven't the Reapers taken Earth?"

"Yeah they have." The Demolisher replied grimly.

"I see." He said in an equal tone. "You have my condolences. For what that is worth."

"Thanks." She answered appreciatively. "You think they could take Sur'Kesh?"

"Most likely." He started. "Haven't made a contributed attack yet. Probably realises how little value we represent. Still, if they did, it wouldn't take long."

"Does that worry you?" She asked concerning.

"Of course it does!" Leret exclaimed. "Not salarian if you don't feel worried. That's why I'm here. Want to fight for home world. Surely you feel the same?"

"I don't have the luxury of being able to visit my home world." The Demolisher replied gravely.

"But surely you want to see it again?" The salarian reasoned.

"I guess." She pondered. "Though it would hardly mean anything to me personally. I may have been born on Earth, but I spent most my life on ships."

"Mmm, funny. Born on a ship, spent most of life on Sur'Kesh." He said with an amused hint.

The Demolisher gave an ever so brief laugh to indulge him.

"Thirty eight years, to be exact." He added.

"Thirty eight?" She repeated, her tone taking a sharp turn to surprised.

"Yes. Elderly by salarian standards." Leret replied. "Still, had a good life, soldier not a scientist. Fight Reapers, ensure home world safe... Good way to go out."

The Demolisher was quite baffled at his resolute manner. To her, a human who would live to be at least one hundred and fifty, the idea of life ending at such an early age of forty was quite alarming. Here she was, barely a fourth into her life, and yet this salarian seemed all the more content in the twilight of his years to spend them fighting Reapers. It certainly put her outlook on her own life into perspective.

"Can I ask you something, Leret?" She asked with concern.

"Go ahead." He responded.

"How long do you think this war will last?" She leaned in to hear his answer intently.

"Hmm, hard to tell." He began. "Total genocide of Protheans took centuries. With us, don't know."

"Centuries?" She said with sudden distress.

"Still... Not as widespread as Protheans." He continued. "But, it certainly has potential to go on for a long time."

Leret finished his evaluation with a hint of graveness about him. And the Demolisher could understand why. A sudden feeling of powerless was about her as she thought to herself. True, she was a N7 Operative, an esteemed example of humanity that was worthy if respect. But she was in no position to do anything that really win this war. She could hardly get involved with the Crucible, and she fell far from the real exemplar of humanity. All she could do was lead, fight Reapers and hope for the best.

"Now that I think about it." Leret said. "Maybe I'm lucky. Have such a short life, don't see this drag out for it's full length."

The thought that the Demolisher might spend the rest of her long life fighting Reapers was not at all a comforting thought, and so she was struck with silence, sitting in her place with her thoughts to occupy the ocean of uncertainly within her head.

The pair of human and salarian did not remain that way for much longer. The shuttle soon made the familiar motions of landing again, and another familiar feeling of anticipation stirred within the Demolisher as the craft came to a second stop, the doors slid open, and the third piece of their four part troupe hopped aboard.

A tall figure clad in a hardened suit of armour entered the pair's vision. Unlike their shiny polished suits, this one bore very noticeable battle scars and was a darkened grimy colour. But what type of suit was of little interest to the Demolisher but rather the humanoid that wore it.

The four eyed round face of a batarian greeted the two eyed narrow face of Leret the salarian and the faceless helm of the Demolisher. Only a moment or two did the newcomer observe his new teammates, and upon figuring out that the species beneath the suit of armour was human, he did something rather unexpected.

"Human!" He exclaimed, but rather with the usual tone of distrust that was to be expected considering the relationship between the two races. Instead it was a joyous festive call, and before the Demolisher could properly respond, the batarian had seized her in an affectionate bear hug, much to her and Leret's surprise.

"Hey." Was all she could say, standing in his embrace completely bewildered.

"Oh I'm sorry." He said, before letting go and putting a respectable distance between them. "I'm sure you understand. Not too familiar with humans."

"Human and batarian relationship prior to invasion bordering on full out war." Leret interjected. "If I recall correctly."

The Demolisher had no knowledge of the brewing war between the System Alliance and the Batarian Hegemony that was brought to a swift end by the Reapers. At any other time, it might have deserved some attention in her part, but right now, she was far too occupied with the incredible openness from her new teammate. Now she hadn't met any batarian before that she remembered, but if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that no batarian ever acted like this to anyone, let alone a human.

"All in the past now. All in the past." The batarian said in response to Leret's claim. "Can't let petty things like that get in the way now. I err... heard about Earth. You have my condolences."

"Appreciate that." She replied, before remembering that he too had no home world to call his own. "And you have mine."

"Thank you human." He said with gratitude. "I guess that makes us... what is the expression you use that relates to seafaring."

"All in the same boat." Leret answered before the Demolisher could reply.

"That's the one." The batarian called out satisfied, before a thought suddenly struck him and he assumed a militant pose. "Oh I almost forgot. Malak Del'tarah."

"Grace Cohen." She introduced herself again.

"Leret Teriakee." The salarian did his bit.

"Good good." Malak said in response, still keeping up his upbeat demeanour. "Well if you don't mind, I've been standing all day."

He picked out a seat of the shuttle and settled himself down with a breath of relief. Leret and the Demolisher returned to their own, and the shuttle doors closed once again and the vehicle took to the air.

The trio sat in silence for a short time. Leret was fiddling with his sniper rifle, examining it with the same intricate eye that the Demolisher reckoned she shared. Malak alternated between doing the same with his assault rifle, or going over his Omni-Tool. The Demolisher, on the other hand was partaking in the simple activity of sitting patiently while occasionally glancing between the two.

For some strange reason, she couldn't help but smile underneath her helmet. She considered herself quite fortunate for her position right now. If she had known that she would be fighting alongside a batarian, she would have been justified in feeling concern. Yet Malak was nothing like that, and instead if feeling suspicion she felt relief. She could only hope that the fourth and final member of their party similarly met her with a warm disposition.

"Call me physic, hu- er, Grace." Malak suddenly called her out. "But I think you are smiling."

The Demolisher was surprised by his guess, figuring it had something to do with an additional pair of eyes.

"Yeah I am." She replied. "Why do you think that?"

"Oh come now." He laughed. "I'm sure your more then familiar with how a human would usually greet a batarian."

"Yeah, but I don't really pay attention to that." She reasoned.

"Of course, and neither should you." He continued. "In a crisis, you all stick together, right?"

"And this is a crisis." The Demolisher mused.

"Correct." Malak went on. "But I definitely was not what you were expecting right?"

"Right." She said.

"Right? Don't just say right, tell me what you think of it." He asked eagerly.

"I think I like it." The Demolisher pondered simply.

"Hmm." Malak sighed disapprovingly. "I guess that's all I'm getting out of you for now."

"For now." She said cheekily.

"Fair enough." He reasoned, before going back to examining his equipment.

The shuttle continued it's trek through the corridors of the mass relays. The Demolisher let out a sudden yawn as she sat there. She had gotten up relatively early in the morning, but had spent almost the entirety of the day inside a little enclosed space. She started to grow restless as she sat, listening to the hum of the vehicle and feeling the slight vibration when she leaned against the wall. Yet by the days end, she would have killed more then her fair share of Reapers, in fact if things went badly, they might be up all night in constant conflict.

Thoughts of the bloodshed that would soon be upon them proved to contrast the quiet and motionless activity of the small shuttle interior. The Demolisher hoped she wouldn't end up falling asleep in the stillness, but couldn't help but feel like it would eventually become a reality. And then the wretched thought of this becoming the rest of her life started to creep within her mind, the cautionary words of Leret sticking with her. She had no intention of submitting to such a fate, but there was little she could do to prevent it, should it come to pass.

The Demolisher started to feel restless again. She tried her best to keep any signs inside her, not wanting to appear informal in front of her teammates, but in doing so, suddenly realised how constrictive this suit of armour clad around her started to feel. She started to feel the imaginary feelings she wanted to feel now. The fresh air breezing through her unrestrictive flowing hair, a proper sun, shining high in the blue sky, basking her in it's warm rays, the feel of a warm bed to rest her weary body on.

The warm embrace of the Shadow as the two wrapped their arms around each other, seeking comfort in each other's hold, all the while fearful of the events that sought to separate them.

Argh! What was she doing with herself, this was not the proper conduct for an N7 Operative. She was supposed to be as emotive as the emotionless suit of armour that encased her, honed through months of pure agony training, into a weapon that would make the Reapers wish they had never set a single giant tentacle in the galaxy. Not this whirlpool of emotions, finding it so hard to simply settle on one single solitary objective, instead pondering the what ifs and buts and wishing she could be anything else other then "The Demolisher."

"One more stop." The pilot called back from the cockpit.

The Demolisher inhaled a sharp intake of the artificial air that filled the small shuttle, once again drawn back into reality, and the thoughts that filled her head fading like infiltrators in a mist.

Once again, the shuttle proceeded with it's landing procedure once more. The Demolisher did her best to get herself in one piece, grateful that Leret and Malak hadn't noticed, before the little vehicle landed and it's doors opened, revealing the final part of their quartet.

The trio laid their eyes upon a behemoth of a biped, who, like the Demolisher was covered from head to foot in heavy armour. Yet, unlike her, no second glances were required to know that their teammate was a krogan.

The helmet observed the trio, glancing from the Demolisher to Malak, then settling on Leret, where it let out a groan.

"Great." The deep voice said from within, and the trio could make out a faint biotic glow aura around the gargantuan form.

"Krogan. Biotic too." Leret said. "Problematic."

The krogan stepped onto the craft, which buckled ever so slightly from his weight, while the trio stepped back to allow him room in the now cramped enclosure.

"Malak Del'tarah."The batarian introduced himself, offering a hand.

The suit of armour simply stood motionlessly, and the Demolisher could sense he was just as bewildered by his openness as she was.

"What. Never seen a friendly batarian before." Malak said defensively.

"No." The krogan said simply.

"Oh." Malak replied taken back. "Well I don't blame you, not exactly a good image we've got, have we?"

"No." The krogan repeated, before he eventually reluctantly reached to take his hand. "Gatalog Kex."

Malak didn't have too much of a reaction to his powerful grasp of a handshake, but that was probably due to him wearing a spiked gauntlet and being of tough batarian stock. The Demolisher, on the other hand, almost had hers yanked off when she introduced herself to Kex. And Leret chose to respectfully decline the offer when it came to him, partly out of him being a salarian facing a krogan, and out of caution of having his hand crushed. Kex chose to lean against the wall of the shuttle, which now rose into the skies once more, it's load noticeably heavier.

"Well then." Malak begun. "Now that we're finally all together, now's as good a time as any to formulate a plan."

"I'll handle that." The Demolisher began boldly, stepping up to begin her address.

She expected perhaps a little objection from the team, but they did nothing of the sort, and instead simply awaited what those N7 leadership skills of hers would yield.

"Right then." She began, gripping the top of the shuttle for support. "I assume you've all read your briefs: we're on our way to Sigurd's Cradle. As of now, the Reapers have made the initial invasion of the Skepsis system and are using it as the staging grounds for their takeover of the whole cluster. We'll be dropped onto Franklin, where the main Reaper force should be set up. It's not our job to take them all out, but what we have to do is cause some disruption, mess up the works. There was a small Alliance naval base set up before the Reapers hit, so that's wear they'll likely be set up. A secondary objective, if we can manage it is to ensure that the ballistic missile defences can't be used against us. Beyond that, it's kill as many Reapers as you can and hope you make it out. Clear enough."

"Understood." Leret said.

"Got it." Malak replied positively.

Kex simply gave a short nod from his helmet.

"Now I don't know about the rest of you." The Demolisher continued. "But since this will be our first time, it's best to do what we would do on any other day, but try and stick together when it's possible. I'll likely be moving up slowly and establishing a defence when I can."

"I can help you there." Malak interjected. "I'm more suited to that kind of work myself."

"I'll likely be scouting ahead and staying out of sight when I can." Leret cut in. "Tactical cloak don't really work well in groups."

"And you?" The Demolisher asked of the unresponsive krogan.

"Just make sure they don't get behind me." He said flatly.

"Will do." The Demolisher responded a little unconvincingly. "Now then. If a couple months ago I knew I'd be calling a batarian and krogan friends I might have had a hard time believing it. But whatever happens today, and what going to come of it, I'd just like to say that, if we get through all this in one piece: You'd be more then friends to me."

"Looking forward to it." Leret said fondly.

"Won't let you down." Malak exclaimed assuringly.

Kex, once again, did not make any signs thar he had taken in what she had said, opting simply to take out his weapon in preparation.

The Demolisher moved into the cockpit to check up on the pilot, now infused with a strange kind of anticipation.

"How much further?" She asked.

"About ten minutes." He responded. "It's gonna get rough though, you're gonna have to drop off quick."

"Understood." She said before turning back to join her new squad.

Leret and Malak had joined Kex on their feet, now making the final touches to their weapons and armour. The Demolisher retrieved what pylons she could manage and did the same. Leret stood with his rifle, a long winding serpent of a rifle that he slung on his back when he was satisfied. Malak was going over an assault rifle, arming his rusty armour with what ammo and medi-gel packs he could fit, while Kex simply practiced enveloping himself in a biotic barrier while keeping his shotgun steady. With her assault rifle in her hands, her shotgun on her rump, supply pylons on her back, and grenades collected in the fastenings of her gauntlets, the Demolisher look far too over prepared for conflict then they were, but nonetheless was just as resolute to finally put her skills to the test for what felt like the first time in an age.

* * *

The shuttle entered the atmosphere of the moon of Franklin in its final landing procedure. This one proved much more fierce then before, as the light craft buckled and swayed heavily as the pilot pulled some feisty manoeuvres to avoid incoming Reaper fire. The squad stumbled and staggered around in the cramped space, but soon found their gripping and readied themselves for what was to come.

"This is it! Go now!" The pilot shouted back as the doors to the shuttle swung open.

The group was met with the initial sight of a cluster of cannibals and husks, eagerly awaiting them to join their mists. Before the Demolisher, Leret or Malak could react, Kex had launched himself off the shuttle in a deep biotic purple haze and charged right into their unsuspecting midst, sending them flying. The rest of the band wasting no time in jumping off to deal with the ones that had survived the impact, the shuttle immediately took off to escape an oncoming Harvester.

The small group made their way up through the Reaper invested ruins. Turning through corners and through holes in the crumbling walls, they stuck together as best they could, the small spaces offering little room to spread. That soon changed, as they came up to one corner that led onto a large open enclosure, and found themselves immediately under a large hail of pellets and incoming projectiles, causing them to double back to shelter. Ducking her head out to analyse the battlefield, the Demolisher found an ideal means if cover.

"See that nook there?" She pointed out to the trio. "If I can set up there, it'd be a good defensive position."

"I can help. Cloak and offer distraction." Leret pointed out.

"Okay, you do that." The Demolisher replied. "Malak, can you cover me while I dart over there?"

"Of course I can." The batarian said, readying his rifle.

"Kex, those biotics would come in handy." She requested of the krogan, who understood her with a single nod.

Leret activated his cloak and moved out into the open, paid no attention by the oncoming Reapers, who were now slowly making their way up to where group were sheltered.

"Wait for it." The Demolisher said, holding the krogan and batarian.

The salarian crept past the Reapers under his cloak, made his way to the cover the Demolisher had pointed out, aimed his rifle at a marauder leading the horde and took the shot. The deformed turian fell to the ground reassuringly, the cluster composed of ravagers, cannibals and more marauders turned to face him.

"Okay go!" The Demolisher yelled, and darted out of cover, joined by the rest.

Malak held his ground and fired at the horde, some of which turned to face him, but found themselves face to face with Kex, who had just biotically charged into their midsts, causing quite the commotion, while Leret fired from the cover. The Demolisher meanwhile sprinted in his direction, darting over the various obstacles while avoiding the fire of a few members of the horde.

Arriving at Leret's position, she wasted no time in getting a supply pylon out of her back on turning the little device on. It sprang to life and jettisoned a few ammo clips and grenades, allowing her to rejoin the battle. The remaining force of Reapers didn't last too long against the combined attacks, which now rained upon them from all sides. Malak and Kex soon made their way to the Demolisher's pylon, finding some wonder in it's make and operations.

"They don't waste any time do they?" Malak mused, taking a clip of ammunition from the pylon.

"Don't have much time. Better recuperate while we can." Leret offered cautiously.

He was right in that respect. The group could all feel that the Reapers were not too far off, what damage they had done seemed like very little.

"Everyone ready?" The Demolisher asked of the group, who responded positively, before she packed up her supply pylon, and they moved on yer again.

They pressed on in a formation, their weapons at the ready for any sign of the enemy. After their initial wave, there were no Reapers to be found, even as they delved further through the ruins that the Demolisher recognised as once belonging to Alliance. A husk jumped out from a hole in a wall, but being the mindless drone of a former humanoid it couldn't possibly comprehend the futility in it's attack. Nonetheless it put the team on edge, each feeling very enclosed the more they pressed on, for there was a lot of ground about them and the constant threat of running into Reapers was ever present.

Eventually they came across a large building, it's hangar door wide open, and not a single enemy in sight. At least until they approached closer, almost at the entrance, when figures sprang up a around them and starting firing. The small band was nearly taken down by the time they had retreated back to the safety of cover. The Demolisher had to reluctantly hand it to the Reapers: they could be dastardly clever in the right situation.

"It's gonna be hard pushing through here." Malak obviously pointed out.

"Gonna need to draw their fire." The Demolisher announced, setting up another pylon.

Leret activated his cloak and darted out to a closer point of cover. Becoming visible with another rifle shot to a Reaper head, the rest of them could at least enjoy a little less pressure, though it wasn't nearly enough for them to start counterattacking. Leret, having the advantage if his cloak, soon disappeared and reappeared in another position and fired again. Now the Demolisher and Malak stood up and returned fire, stil taking damage but managing to at least force a few cannibals and marauders into cover.

"Watch out! Bringing up husks!" Leret yelled over their radios, a little further up to notice the humanoids moving forwards.

"That's where I come in." Kex exclaimed, and as soon as he got a good look at one, charged once again, sending it flying and wasting no time in firing his shotgun into another's skull.

The mighty krogan, however, started to feel the pressure of the guns from the Reapers in cover, and was soon forced back. Malak took the brief opportunity to move up to another piece of cover, now making the fight spread out evenly. The Demolisher, being weighed down by her arsenal, was a little more slow on the uptake, but eventually moved up to another piece herself.

Just as the group felt they might have been doing enough damage to make a proper concentrated assault on the Reaper base, two brutes crawled out of the wide entrance, fully intent to driving them back again. Kex found himself quite close to behemoths, but was hardly going to bark and turn tail, at long as his biotics would hold and there were shells in his shotgun, he could handle them. And that's what he did, charging once again into one, he knocked the brute off balanced before retreating back, firing his shotgun. Leret, on the other hand, used the attention the brutes were paying to his team, to cloak and move into the structure. Coming up behind a marauder that was harassing the rest, he dropped it in one shot, now making the rest of the Reapers in cover turn to face the threat that was now much closer.

The Demolisher, noting that she was no longer being fired at, could finally move up. But find cover she did not, as the brutes were now rapidly charging across the field, one attempting to get close to Kex, who was remaining our of range firing his shotgun, and biotically charging when he could, while the other went straight for Malak, who wasn't nearly durable enough to contend with such a beast.

His human teammate was there to help him however, as the brute now felt something small but significant burst into it's side, causing it to momentarily stagger. The Demolisher withdrew her Omni-Tool, having just fired a grenade at the creature, before she drew her shotgun and fired upon it. The gargantuan Reaper could not move quickly enough to deal with them both and soon fell to their combined attacks, it's brother following suit as the Demolisher and Malak turned to help out their krogan.

Now standing over their dual kills, the trio briefly wondered what had become of the Reapers firing on them a moment ago, before they remembered Leret and rushed through the hangar doors to lend assistance. To their surprise, however, they found only a single feisty ravager left in the middle of a few fallen cannibals and marauders. The Demolisher and Malak would have reacted accordingly, but lacking the ability to biotically charge, there wasn't much left to shoot at when Kex had finished with the creature.

"Brutes provided advantage to move ahead." The shimmering figure of their salarian announced, appearing alongside Kex. "Good job, by the way."

"So what do we do now?" Kex asked of the Demolisher, who felt nice to know he respected her authority. "Blow the place up?"

"Sounds like a good idea." She remarked at his suggestion. "Except... we don't have the means."

"If this is a missile facility." Malak said. "Maybe we could use that to our advantage here."

"Maybe." The Demolisher noted. "We're going to have to find some kind of launch controls then."

The group looked out ahead. Only one door was visible, but beyond that the Demolisher had no clue of the layout of this station. It could be an immense maze of winding corridors, and there may yet be more Reapers in a fortified position up ahead. At any rate, they made their way to the door and opened it with ease, and found, to their surprise, one long empty hallway.

"Well let's see how far this takes us." The Demolisher said at the sight of it. "Be ready."

The company moved down the hall with the Demolisher leading. The hall stretched on for quite a way, until they became aware of a strange smell. A very particular scent that felt like a combination of metal and flesh, but could only be the indication that there was bound to be some kind of Reaper presence up ahead. And if it was strong enough to have it's own smell, then it must some presence indeed.

Eventually they came upon one big door, and found the smell to be quite overwhelming at this point, which could only lead them to the conclusion that whatever was making it was on the other side. The door proved unresponsive to their touch however, but one locked door was hardly going to put a stop to their search. The Demolisher unhooked one the grenades from the metal fastenings inside her armoured glove, gave it to Kex, who infused it with a potent biotic glow, attached it very carefully to the lock and, as the team backed up a good distance, Leret fired upon the device, causing it to explode in a big dazzle of blue electric currents and purple biotic waves, a big hole standing where the door once stood, and allowing the team access to the sight inside. And what a grisly sight it turned out to be.

A wide open room, lit by a bright red light greeted their eyes. But it was the piles of human bodies scattered and piled up in sickly messy heaps that caused them all to pause in their tracks. Blood pooled here and there, and the stench of rustic metal combined with the unpleasant scent of the fleshy cadavers made it an almost overwhelming burden on their nostrils in addition to their eyes. If the Reapers had been sharp minded, this would have presented the best opportunity to take out the small band of shocked figures. But instead, not a single monster was to be found stirring amongst the masses of bodies. It may have been that it was such a sickly sight that even the Reapers themselves were disgusted by it.

"Must be crude way of storing humans." Leret broke the silence. "Intent to do with them...Unpleasant."

"That's one way of putting it." Malak remarked with a sickened tone.

"Anyone else feeling kind of hungry?" Kex asked sinisterly.

The krogan, batarian and salarian took a few steps into the room, treading very carefully before they noticed that the human had not followed. The metal encased figure stood in a fixed pose at the doorway, it's expressions unknown beneath it's helm. Slowly, the legs started to tremble, but the human held it's pose, starting to breath heavily from it's headgear. The two eyes behind the visor were fixed on the sight in front of them, incapable of moving anywhere else, as if in a trance. The fingers around the rifle held loose in the hands started to twitch, finding it difficult to maintain a good grip.

"Hey..." Malak said putting his gauntlet upon the shoulder of the figure, trying as be he could to be comforting. "Hey... You okay?"

Although he knew that the answer to that question was unlikely to be yes, he felt that his teammate felt the need to hear words of comfort in the face of the ghastly scene laid out before them.

Slowly, the helmet turned to face him, breathing becoming loud and sluggish. One of the hands reached up to feel the armoured hand of the batarian, before it moved to it's owner's face. Feeling barred from touching it through the helmet, the rifle held loosely in the other hand dropped to the floor with a clang as the hand now joined it's partner upon the helmet, fiddling with the switches before a reassuringly sound chimed and the helmet came off the head.

Grace Cohen was emitting fierce deep breaths from her free mouth, but felt reassured to feel some space from her enclosed helmet. Her face was a pale complexion, but in response to the still air, a tingling of colour could be seen making it's way back up. Two big green eyes, previously fixated on the scene in front, turned to a relaxed state as their eyelids drooped over them. One hand reached up to brush a loose strand of red hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear and readjusting the tight scarlet bun as best she could, before she took in one last breath, closed her eyes for a time, and placed her helmet back over her head.

"Just needed a moment there." She said fatigued, but a sudden new vigour about her.

"All set?" Leret asked.

"Of course." The Demolisher replied, before the group once again entered the room, this time as a whole.

It didn't become any prettier of a sight the more they delved. There was a certain disorganised order to the way the corpse had been piled up, as if the Reapers were in some particular hurry to be done with the deed as soon as possible. Yet no Reapers did they find amongst the room, only met with the same stench and silence that had greeted them, making the band all the more on the alert for any signs if activity. Gradually, the bodies started to thin out, becoming scattered lines here and there, with some discarded machinery stained with blood present, the function of which, they did not want to find out. Now they moved on as fast as for an exit.

The Demolisher was growing ever so uneasy in the sight of her fellow mankind in such a discarded state. Though she had got over her initial shock, her blank mind was starting to buzz with thoughts if dread. She imagined Earth, with it's many humans still stranded on it, a bigger sum then the small inhabitants of this little moon. This was the sort of thing the Reapers had in mind for them, and not just humans, but all the other races. Who knows how many had already fallen to this sickly fate, and who was still left. The Demolisher started to feel despair, and the familiar urge to inflict an awful lot of pain on the Reapers for their wickedness was all the comfort she could feel right now.

Finally, they came to another door that led to a mercifully free hallway. They could only imagine that this was the right way to go. If their initiative was right, there should be a few ballistic missiles up ahead, either destroyed by the Reapers or waiting for the chance to be fired. And sure enough they were lead to one immense hangar, where two huge missiles lay in wait. Finding a large wall of control panels, they stopped and made their next course of action.

"Accessing missile guidance controls..." The Demolisher announced as she examined the various interfaces. "Access granted. That was easy."

"A little too easy, don't you think?" Malak pointed out cautiously. "Why haven't we ran into any more Reapers?"

All four minds were thinking the same thing, he had just put their concern into words. After such a hectic landing and assault on the front door, where had all those Reapers gone to? It certainly made them all pause for a minute, deep in thought.

"Two possible explanations." Leret began. "One: Reapers have already moved main forces onto planet Watson proper. Two: We killed them all."

"Aren't those kinda the same thing?" Kex pointed out unconvinced. "Doesn't explain those bodies back there."

"Number of bodies indicates a large presence too small for moon." Leret did his best to explain. "More likely: Reapers are using base as temporal storage for Watson inhabitants."

"So what?" Malak replied. "They just dumped them back there and just left. That doesn't add up."

"Maybe it does." The Demolisher reasoned. " Maybe they left them there and went to go get more, meaning..."

She trailed off, a sudden panic struck her, a panic Malak could pick up on.

"Meaning what?" He asked with notable concern.

"Meaning large Reaper force is likely to be returning from planet Watson." Leret finished the Demolisher's sentence, the panic suddenly striking at him as well.

As if to answer their alarming theory, their radios suddenly started to beep at an frantic pace, stunning them a little.

"Pilot, what it is?" The Demolisher asked into her helmet earpiece with obvious alarm.

"You need to get out of there right now!" The pilot yelled back with much more alarm. "I'm landing in seven minutes, if you don't make it, there's gonna be Reaper warships all over this place!"

He ended his transmission abruptly, causing the group to waste at least ten seconds understanding what he had said.

"Aw hell." The Demolisher muttered under her breath.

"Immediate evacuation all too obvious." Leret exclaimed.

"What about the missiles?" Kex asked quite calmly, considering the situation.

The Demolisher gazed over the many interfaces once more. Despite how incredibly urgent the situation had become, she could hardly bring herself to abandon the chance to do something that involved missiles. So she went about analysing any potential options as fast as she could, her team standing patiently, or as best they could appear patiently.

"Got it!" She cried out after only half a minute or so. "I can launch a missile at one of the Reaper ships, give me a sec here... Finding target, target locked, commence firing protocols... Damn it! The blast doors aren't open... What a waste!"

"Can you still launch a missile?" Kex asked, now completely abandoning his calm manner and now simply thick with urgency.

"What?" She asked back, before finding an answer. "Yeah I can."

"Launch it anyway!" He demanded.

The Demolisher would have asked why he would make such a request, but the situation at hand simply didn't allow her.

"Okay." She said, turning back to set about the task. "I did it!"

She turned back, only to discover that the rest of the team had already made a start on the mad dash back to the entrance. Suddenly imagining that the pilot's seven minute warning seemed sol far away, the Demolisher took off after them, cursing herself for packing so much artillery into her small form.

Straight across the missile storage they fled, one of the immense weapons in the middle of it's firing phase. Back down the hallways, the Demolisher was starting to feel the weight of her arsenal bearing down on her, but on she sprinted, coming to an ever so brief pause when they came back to the room with the piles of human bodies. She was nearly threatened to go right back through the initial paralysis she felt upon entering the room for the first time, but the sight of her fellow teammates dashing on ahead brought her out of it, and she resumed her sprint, nonetheless taking care to avoid tripping over any of the loose bodies.

In barely two minutes they had arrived back outside the entrance. They may have been no Reapers around, but they could all tell they were not too far behind. A few seconds later, their shuttle came darting through the skies, handling like a bat out of hell, but the pilot managed to land as orderly as he could. The team wasted no effort in the final sprint but before the Demolisher could properly jump aboard, she was frozen in place by the sight of an immense Reaper emerging from the dark clouds above them.

A terrible figure that heralded the destruction of all mankind was enough to make her pause, frozen in sheer awe and terror at it's presence. The Demolisher might have succumb to complete paralysis, but in a flash, a sudden explosion shook the scene. That of the facility they had just left, going up in a big bright fire that was dangerously close to them. The Demolisher was knocked off her feet, a slight ringing in ears , before she felt the immense arms of her krogan teammate pick her up and threw her onto the shuttle.

"Hold on!" The pilot warned them before the shuttle doors closed sharply and the little vehicle launched into the skies.

Between the facility exploding all over sending debris flying, and the Reapers, the little shuttle had a lot to dodge. The pilot pulled some feisty tricks and the shuttle had soon launched itself into the vast space, giving the squad some time to recuperate. But it wasn't long before a single Reaper ship had come up into the void looking for it, forcing the pilot to turn the craft on a beeline for the mass relay.

They managed to make it through just barely in time, before the Reaper would have been too close for comfort, allowing the team to properly sit back and feel good about their accomplishment.

"Good. All things considering." Leret mused.

"It just had to end with an explosion, didn't it." Malak remarked.

"Wish there was more fighting." Kex said longingly.

The Demolisher didn't have any remarks to make. She was too deep in thought to bother. She didn't feel particularly good about what they had done, now that all the excitement had died down, the images of the room with the corpses and the gargantuan Reaper looming ominously as they escaped had found a space in her mind to settle down. If that was to be the first of many more skirmishes, she was not looking forward to discovering new ways the Reapers could get under her skin like that. Well she would just have to toughen up, do her best to block it all out and hope it wouldn't get to her anymore.

She now chose to turn her mind to wonder, whether the rest of her former companions had been through something similar. The Destroyer, the Paladin, the Shadow...

The Demolisher suddenly felt very weary, and decided that perhaps, she had done enough thinking for today. So instead she joined in the conversation with her new team, finding it hard to think such thoughts when she was preoccupied with talking.

* * *

**Well, tell me what you think of this. The more signs of a reception I get makes it more likely that I won't abandon this.**


	4. The French Connection

If the Slayer faced the same long shuttle ride that the Demolisher had, he probably would have biotically combusted before he even met his first teammate. Fortunately for him, while he did face another shuttle ride, it was to be ever a brief one. Only a brief half hour or so, and he would be off, and could trade pacing around the cramped interior of a shuttle for the much more spacious hangar of a space station. It still wasn't enough for him, and he briefly cursed the fact that he could launch himself over ten meters in one purple flash. For when a person with that kind of pacing is restricted to the small enclosed space of a shuttle, especially with the day that awaited the Slayer, it can make them ever so twitchy.

The Slayer had in fact been pacing around the inside of his shuttle so rapidly that he actually worked himself into a brief fit of exhaustion. Through the humidity of his helmet, he could detect some beads of sweat flowing down his brow, in addition to a faint stitch that sprang up suddenly in his chest, as well as a slight slouch in his legs. His eyes darted over to the row of seats positioned against the wall, and suddenly, he found the prospect of settling down in one place to be an entertaining one. So settle down he did, finding it quite surprising how he hadn't sat down once all day.

Now that he wasn't moving, the Slayer felt the familiar rush of various thoughts assault his mind, as if they could breach his mental defences when he was in constant motion. Thoughts that made him wish fondly for the past, yet eagerly await the future. He may have denied it considerably, but somehow the Slayer felt glad for the change, having felt like he had grown to depend on his old team too much. Sure, he hoped that he would one day fight alongside them once more, but if he was being honest with himself, he couldn't help but agree with the reasons Hackett had given them, even if he did not at the time.

It felt good to be thought of as such fine specimens of humanity. If that was what N7 Training merited, the Slayer felt almost a privilege of sorts to consider himself amongst such a scant few. In fact, there was a strange patriotic sense of duty that the small team were spread far and wide, hopefully they would be seen as a beacon of resistance against the Reaper horde that other races could rally around. It would demonstrate that, even if Earth was taken, humanity wasn't just going to submit and be pacified, but rather would fight with every living fibre in their collective being to inflict as much pain as they were capable of. And the N7 Operatives would be at the front to ensure that the pain was being spread around as much ad possible.

Or maybe the Slayer was just letting his imagination get the better of him as he sat in a still pose. To reach the rank of N7 was worth every bit of respect and esteem it earned, but they were hardly gods amongst men, just a rather exceptional group of men and women that had done pretty well for themselves. And with that thought came the anticipation of what a hopefully exciting new assortment of well trained individuals that the Slayer would be hopefully proud to call his team.

By some strange coincidental luck, the pilot called back to him, bringing him out of his little world of imagination.

"We'll be docking in a few moments now sir." He announced.

The Slayer stood up from his seat, suddenly feeling a whole rush of vigour about him, similar to the one he would get whenever he successfully made a biotic charge. The sharp turn of movements made by the shuttle made him grasp the wall for support, but it wasn't long before it all smoothed out, and the little craft eventually docked within a much larger ship, and the doors opened, the Slayer eager to find out what awaited him.

What did await him was another suit of armour standing just outside the shuttle doors. The scene in front, a large commotion of various species clustered about involved in a number of different affairs would have been worthy of his eyesight had it not been for the figure by the shuttle. Decked out in a similar shade of armour, the Slayer recognised it to be a human female, likely a soldier of some sort, but despite her faceless form, he quickly got the impression that there was some nervousness about her stance, like she had been waiting for him to make his appearance, but was unsure of how to properly greet him.

"Lillian Anders N5 sir! Reporting for duty sir!" She stated, giving the Slayer a salute somewhat nervously but resolute nonetheless.

Ah, now that made sense. N7 Operatives were respected by all humans, but to lower marines in the Interplanetary Combatives Training program, they held special reverence. Especially since any N from one to six all had the potential to push themselves up to the illustrious seventh tier, but the training had simply proven too much for them and they bailed out. The Slayer felt somewhat special indeed for the way she held him in such high regard, but felt that she too deserved recognition of her merits.

"It's okay, soldier." He made his reply, resting a hand upon the marines shoulder. "N5, that's still pretty damn impressive."

"Thank you sir." She replied with some immense relief. "But it's just... N7, I mean... N5 was hell. If you don't mind me asking sir, how did you do it?"

She spoke like reaching N7 required reaching into the very heart of a dying star and pulling it right out as it went supernova, and living to tell the tale. Or maybe that was just the impression he got from her starry eyed glance, (or the starry eyed glance he imagined she had beneath her helm).

"With an awful lot of willpower and determination." The Slayer decided to indulge the bright young mind. "But we're not here to discuss that, how about you show me to that duty huh?"

"Of course sir!" The marine exclaimed with an awful lot of enthusiasm at such a simple prospect. "Right this way sir."

The Slayer allowed himself to be led by her, finding the fabled position of power she viewed him with to be well worth it. He certainly didn't get that sort of impression from his other teammates, what with them all being on the small level, it was really a bug competition to see who could do what the best. Nothing to be learnt that hadn't been learnt already. But with this eager young mind, the Slayer felt that there was a thing or too he could part with her, even if she didn't look like she had any trace of biotics in her.

The pair went through many clusters of races, some of them were dressed for combat while there was a good deal of desperate looking civilians, who the Slayer suspected to be fugitives now. Compared to the static environment of the shuttle, there was a great deal of emotions flying about, creating a commotion of uncertainty. It definitely made the Slayer think for a bit, suddenly feeling very arrogant for thinking of how important it was that N7 Operatives be thought of as excellent humans, when there were many of his fellow mankind here that looked like they had nothing to call important at all.

It made the Slayer almost stop and ponder just what it was that he was fighting for here; was it for humanity, survival, all the other races, or maybe for his own image. Deciding that troubling thoughts like that were easily dispelled through the act of conversation, he caught up to the marine escorting and asked the first thing he could think of.

"Lillian is it?" He began.

"That's right sir." She responded with the consistent enthusiastic tone.

"You know you don't have to make me feel special with every sentence. I sure would appreciate it if you toned it down just a little." He informed her with some concern as well as sincerity.

"Oh... Of course sir." Lillian replied, struggling to appear formal despite her still obvious excitement. "No you're right sir, I'm sorry."

"It's understandable miss." The Slayer did his best to appear civil. "And please, my name's Gabriel."

"Thank you si- er, Gabriel." The anxious young Lillian replied, having lost almost all the intense animation in her voice by now.

"It's just that I don't want to end up disappointing you later you, I'm sure you understand." He continued. "Speaking of which, what exactly have you heard about me?"

"Oh." She said clumsily. "Oh, well I have how great you are with biotics."

"How you?" The Slayer said disbelievingly. "That's funny because I haven't heard anything about you."

"Well of course you haven't." She said. "I mean, I'm just an ordinary N5, but you're N7, and that's gotta have quite the reputation to it, right?"

There was nothing ordinary to the Slayer about being an N5, and he could hear that familiar awe in her voice start to rise again. But that wasn't what was so peculiar about it.

"I understand that. But, you seem to know a hell of a lot about me, which can't be simply due to what tales you've heard, but rather because you had specific instructions saying that you would be working with an N7 Operative. Yet I haven't so much as heard even the slightest about you." The Slayer did his best to try and explain. "Which gives me the impression that you know who our fellow companions are, and I don't."

"...You don't?" Lillian replied slowly, her tone turning to one of disbelief. "Well I do... Know the rest of the team... If that's what you're asking. Strange, isn't it?"

"Certainly is." He replied simply.

It certainly was strange that the Slayer have the identities of his fellow teammates disclosed from him, yet this ordinary N5 marine nit share the same withdrawal. Maybe it was simply as a means of testing the ability of the N7s to adapt to new and sudden changes. Maybe...

"So I take it the rest of the teams up ahead, right?" He did his best to understand the situation.

"Not all of them." Lillian informed him. "Still waiting on one more. One more and then we'll be..."

She abruptly stopped, as if she had lost her voice.

"Off?" The Slayer finished for her.

"... That's right sir." She replied. "Oh... Gabriel."

Her voice felt weak, losing all the feel she had prior. And as if to illustrate the point, she also abruptly stopped in her tracks, a slight shakiness to her legs visible.

"You're not nervous?" He asked with concern.

"No." She said, before she let out a very deep breath. "Yes. It's just that... It'll be my first time... fighting."

Lillian bowed her helmet, taking in deep breaths in an attempt to keep herself on balance. The Slayer, finding himself in a sudden compassionate mood, approached her and lay his arms on her shoulders, slightly shaking her in a comforting gesture.

"Well." He began. "You won't be doing it alone. I'm not going to pretend I know where this wars going to take us. But I'm sure... if you give it your best, I'll see you through it."

He felt that he may have staggered slightly, not having to talk words of comfort on a regular basis. But he appeared to have done something, for Lillian stopped her heavy breathing, and brought one of her hands up to feel his grasp on her shoulders in a reassured embrace.

"Thank you sir." She said sincerely.

"Think nothing of it." He replied. "Now come on, I'm really eager to see our team."

"Right this way." She replied in a formal tone, before resuming her stride, with the Slayer following eagerly.

* * *

It didn't take them long to reach their destination: another hangar similar to the one the Slayer had arrived in. Still it was the same clutter of clashing affairs, though it was all mostly comprised of soldiers this time round. He briefly entertained the thought of perhaps seeing another one of his squad mates, maybe waiting for whatever new companions they would find, but he soon came to realise how unlikely that would be. This space station he found himself on must be some strange centre of activity indeed, for there were no determinable signs to show who it belonged to. Was it the Systems Alliance, the asari or the turians, he could not say for sure; but what was obvious was that it served all.

Eventually they made their way down to the front of the thicket of figures, coming to the entrance new shuttles would be dropping in.

"We're just waiting for the last member to arrive." Lillian informed him. "In the meantime, say hello to your second new teammate."

"Who?" The Slayer asked of her confused, for there were many faces to be found.

"Good day Earth-clan." A deep voice from behind a mask said.

He took a moment to readjust his field of vision, turning his gaze downwards to find the diminutive figure of a volus standing just a fees feet to the right of him. There was no mistaking that small suit,though unlike the scarce few volus suits he had laid eyes on in the past, this one was much more hardened with various protective metals encasing the small fragile entity within. Nonetheless, it was still a cause for concern for the Slayer, who didn't know whether to feel blessed or cursed.

"Ah." He uttered. "So that's what you look like, then."

"Excuse me Earth-clan." The volus spoke up to him with a hint of suspicion through the thickness of the mask.

"Relax Barthon, it's the same reaction every one would have towards a volus that can fight." Lillian chipped in.

"You know this volus?" The Slayer asked of her, for she spoke to the volus like he was a long time friend.

"Sure I do." She replied. "Me and Barthon Fink here go back a long ways. Hell, I was just as surprised as you were to find him capable of taking on anything bigger then a bar stool."

"Charming as always, Lillian." Barthon remarked in what felt like an incredibly dry tone, considering how fluid his speech sounded.

"Okay, I've got to ask." The Slayer interrupted what looked like a good catching up between old friends. "What is it that you do, that makes you capable of fighting Reapers, huh?"

"What do I do?" The diminutive volus barked back. "What do I do Earth-clan?"

"Yes please, what do you do?" The Slayer restated himself, eager to know of his teammates combat capabilities.

"Well I'll show you, Earth-clan." Barthon stated, now with pride. "You better stand back for this."

The Slayer and Lillian obliged and backed up a few feet, before the volus raised his small arms, as if deep in concentration before, to the Slayer's surprise, a series of small blue orbs manifested in a revolving orbit around his small frame.

"A biotic volus!?" The Slayer exclaimed, finding the eccentric site of the little volus with his little biotic orbs floating around him.

"That's not all I do Earth-clan." Barthon remarked. "Would you like me to demonstrate the blessed Shield Boost."

"Oh go on then." The Slayer said, eager to find out more now that he had witnessed but a small taste.

"You need to raise your barriers first." Barthon asked of him, and the Slayer obliged, though it took him a little while to get into the proper stance, since raising biotic barriers in the current state of relaxation proved quite straining.

Barthon dispelled the bright blue orbs that orbited him with ease, before he took to his Omni-Tool, fiddling about with the functions, before he activated a bright pulse of energy that encased the Slayer.

Initially, he felt nothing at first. But suddenly, the steadfast barrier he had erected around himself suddenly felt a swell of energy as it tightened, forming into a hardened state of invigorating energy that made him feel tougher then ever. It felt immensely good, not like his barriers had been taken over and were being dictated to him, but rather were simply infused with an outside source that was making them harder then he could have ever made them. This would prove very advantageous in those desperate heated moments in battle, where the Slayer's barriers were barely a stretch away from completely evaporating.

"Okay I'm convinced, you're a, what, biotic god." He confessed in awe of the sheer might the little volus had displayed.

"Biotic god eh?" Barthon mused. "Not a bad idea Earth-clan, not a bad idea."

"See." Lillian exclaimed playfully. "We're getting along already."

For some reason, the Slayer could detect that, beneath her helm, she was smiling. And for some other reason, it made him smile under his helm in return. Maybe after all that time amongst his snarky fellow N7 Operatives, it felt good to finally have the respect of someone as bright minded as this young marine.

"Well I don't know about you two." He announced, getting over his little moment of comfort with ease. "But I am one for getting this show on the road."

"Just need to wait for the leader to show up." Barthon remarked.

"Leader?" The Slayer parroted back. "I was under the impression that I was the leader. I mean, what says leadership more then an N7 Operative?"

"How about an Asari Justicar." Lillian exclaimed, before suddenly scolding herself. "Oh damn, was supposed to be a surprise."

Her words sparked eagerness and concern within the Slayer. Those two words had equal relevance to him: Asari, well they were still the number one race within the galaxy, and Justicar, well from what he had heard, they tended to work alone rather then in groups. But what really stirred within him was the fact that Asari were all damn good biotics. And well, the Slayer considered himself a damn good biotic as well, and he silently hoped that she didn't happen to be a good swing with a sword as well.

"Ah, this should be the shuttle now." Barthon exclaimed, pointing up and drawing both the Slayer and Lillian's gaze as the familiar sight of a shuttle landed in the immense hangar.

The human duo made their way to where the shuttle would be landing, deciding to simply go with their volus' instinct that this was the one they sought. The Slayer felt a tremor if excitement resonate around him, for he was suddenly very eager to make the acquaintance of an asari, in addition to see what his new team would be capable of. To his right, however, he could still make out the shape of Lillian trembling ever so slightly at the bloodshed that awaited them. He would have analysed her closer, but at that moment the shuttle had fully landed, and it's doors did open.

Standing just behind them was, predictably, the figure of an asari. The armour that adorned her body certainly looked different then the pristine and unspoiled suit of Lillian, the slightly rugged shape around the Slayer, or the hardened cask of metal around the diminutive Barthon. Rather, this looked like it had seen it share of battles, having very noticeable scars decorated at certain areas; yet despite that, it still maintained a distinctly bright coloured hue about it. As for the face of the asari, it fitted the image of the armour quite well, going through the curious motions of observing the team, but despite a relative bright blueness to it, there was definitely some signs of weariness here and there. The Slayer would have made the introduction first, but his fellow human beat him to it.

"Justicar Arliah, I presume?" She said in a formal tone, very different from her greeting to the Slayer.

"The one and only." The asari remarked almost lazily.

"Lillian Anders N5!" The human introduced herself properly, and the Slayer could make out the same manner of nervousness return to her.

"Yeah yeah." The asari continued in her dismissive tone. "I take it you're all my new team?"

"Yes Ma'am." Lillian replied, alternating between sounding formal and sounding animated.

"Well come on then." The Justicar announced to the group, stepping back and gesturing for them to come aboard.

The Slayer was the first to hop aboard, while Lillian stepped up after him to offer her volus aid in making the short gap. Justicar Arliah observed the pair with some trepidation, and the Slayer could understand why, but simply hoped that what tricks Barthon had displayed would soon change her mind.

"Gabriel Ayrault I presume?" She turned her attention to the Slayer.

"That's right Madame." He did his best to reply politely, but found her access to his name when he had only known hers for barely a minute to be troubling.

"M7 isn't it?" She asked somewhat naively.

"N7." He corrected her, slightly irritated.

"N7, right." The asari restated in the same careless manner. "Well that will liven things up a little."

The Slayer did not feel too reassured by her words. For a member of the supposed wisest race in the galaxy, Arliah certainly did not seem to emit a whole lot of effort in her speech. Maybe that was simply the result of an undeterminable ambling of centuries spent in this world rendering her stoic to the affairs of those around her. The asari's face was evident of that, now that the Slayer was closer he could get a good impression that she had spent very few hours sleeping over the past weeks. He was briefly thankful that he was wearing a helmet, but even still, he imagined that she was finding his gaze off putting. Which was probably why she turned round to the pilot soon after Barthon and Lillian had settled themselves down in the seats along the shuttle wall.

"Well what are you waiting for?" She said with a surprising hint of snappiness. "We're all aboard, get a move on already!"

"Yes Ma'am." He replied wobbly before obliging, and the little craft closed it's doors, hovered up and soon shot out of the hangar, into the vacuum of space.

There was an initial silence as the group of four got acquainted with the change. Lillian sat on her seat, resting her armoured head against the wall. Barthon sat close by, bracing himself for fear of falling off and tumbling his small form onto the floor. The Slayer stood with his back to wall, finding some comfort in the rocking vibrations he felt as the shuttle rumbled through space. Arliah stood opposite him, with her back to the wall, but unlike him, she wasn't nearly as still as he was, her gaze shifting between the three of them with varying tones.

Finally after some time, the Slayer felt that a course of action was needed and decided to break the silence.

"So, should I go over the plan." He began, facing Arliah. "Or do you want to?"

"Wait a moment." The asari replied, as if she wanted to avoid the conversation. "Before we discuss that, there's this little problem we should discuss first."

"Oh." The Slayer remarked, not too surprised that she had found a problem already. "Which is?"

"You actually." Arliah responded.

The Slayer looked up at her, properly surprised this time, but found her not to be looking at him, but rather at his fellow human sat in the corner.

"Me?" Lillian uttered, noting now that the trio of asari, volus and human were now observing her. "What?"

"Barthon." Arliah began, turning to the volus. "Would you care to demonstrate your biotic potential, please?"

Barthon did as instructed, taking a moment before conjuring one bright blue biotic orb out of the air, hovering it in the centre of the shuttle before it disappeared.

"Thank you." The Justicar responded positively. "And you err, Gabriel."

The Slayer observed the asari through the visor of his helm. A part of him could see where this was going and wanted to refuse, but eventually, he obliged and shrouded himself in an aura of purple before dispersing it, hoping she was satisfied.

Arliah simply gave a faint smile before she snapped her fingers and a bright blue cloud snaked around her hand, warping itself in the air, elegantly, but completely unnecessary. She dispersed the display of biotics too, before she returned her gaze to the human in the corner.

Lillian looked strangely small, like the walk of the shuttle had grown in size and was dwarfing her. The Slayer could detect the gloved hands start to tremble and he could swear she was starting to sweat beneath her helmet. Having not a trace of Element Zero anywhere about her, she could do nothing to match what the rest of them had displayed.

"Exactly." Arliah said in grim satisfaction.

"What exactly are you getting at there?" The Slayer questioned her, becoming very defensive all of a sudden.

"I was under the impression." She began. "That this would be a team of biotics. Now I don't think theres been some kind of mistake, but... I do feel this could be something of a, what, a liability."

The Slayer was confused, and thus stood silent, while Lillian simply looked even more minuscule against the looming wall.

"You think she might put herself at risk?" Barthon asked, quite confused himself.

"Something like that." Arliah casually remarked.

"Now hold up there asari." The Slayer found his voice again. "That's a pretty unfair accusation to make. Just cause she's not a biotic, what that makes her less capable then the rest of us, is that what your saying?"

"Can you vouch for her?" The Justicar answered back coldly.

"Well..." He looked over to Lillian. "No I can't. But if you saying that three biotics and a soldier have a lesser chance then four biotics, then you have to realise how we're not in any position to be choosers right now."

The Slayer felt that he was being as calm and rational as he could. Arliah's look changed ever so slightly from suspicion to simple defeat. Lillian was distinctly silent and still, as if she had forgotten to breath.

"Fair enough. You make your point." Arliah said at last, before she turned on the soldier. "Lillian. Sorry for my err... initial perceptions on your talents. Please understand that I am used to dealing with biotics. And now with someone like you... and a volus. It's just makes me worry a little."

"I'll try not to disappoint you Ma'am." Lillian said after taking in a deep breath.

"This is all very touching." Barthon remarked. "But can we please get on with this."

"Yes let's." Arliah responded quickly shaking off the sincerity in her voice, turning to the Slayer. "You start."

"Okay." He said, stepping up for an address.

Arliah was observing him with an unsettling smirk on her face. As for the faceless Lillian and Barthon, their stance indicated they were listening intently. The Slayer went over the battle plan in his head, before it suddenly dawned on him how incredibly base and simple it was. Barely any meaningful objective in store for them, simply inflicting as much damage on the Reapers as possible.

"The... goal, if we have one." He began. "Is simply to drop down on this planet by the name of, err, Ontarom, and kill as many Reapers as we can without dying."

"Sounds lovely." The asari remarked with mock praise.

"Yeah well I wish it was more fulfilling too." The Slayer noted. "But let's just make the most of it. Killing Reapers is something we're all good at..."

He was interrupted by a mighty jolt that rocked the shuttle, sending the standing Slayer and Arliah almost knocking heads while the other two had to grasp their seats with the firmest grip to avoid tumbling onto the floor.

"I believe that's our cue." Arliah noted before moving over to the cockpit.

The Slayer did his best to steady himself, but another jolt knocked him down. Before he knew what was happening, the doors of the shuttle had opened wide, revealing a blinding light through which he could make out a dizzying height of some distance. Before be knew it, he was sliding towards the doors, and would have surely fallen out had he not feel a tug on his shoulders as Arliah had grasped him just in time.

"Help me help you, will you!" She yelled over the commotion, as her grasp on him was slipping.

The Slayer managed to find his feet as the shuttle steadied itself. Now the shuttle was slowly descending to the ground but was still too far off.

"Right so let's..." The Slayer was about to begin, but before he could do so, Arliah had jumped out of the shuttle, shrouding herself in a protective bright aura.

"It would appear we are in no shape to land." The diminutive Barthon remarked, before, to the Slayer's immense shock, surrounded himself in a similar biotic glow and leaped out to the join the Justicar.

The Slayer was beginning to see Arliah's concerns over Lillian. As the two tried in vain to steady themselves, the shuttle took another shake and sent them knocking heads and nearly falling out.

"Lillian!" The Slayer exclaimed over the howl of the wind and the rumble of the shuttle's engines. "Grab me."

"Excuse me sir!" The soldier yelled in equal alarm.

"Unless you want to make the jump yourself, grab me!" The Slayer demanded, struggling to keep himself on his two legs.

Now struggling herself, Lillian obliged and practically threw her arms around him. Now in a secure grip, the Slayer worked to surround the pair with a strong biotic shroud, facing immense difficulty considering the situation. But in a short time, purple currents enveloped the pair, practically gluing them together.

"Okay when I say so." He announced. "Jump with me. Don't you dare move away or you'll land with a splat. Got that?"

"I think so sir!" Lillian yelled in alarm. "But sir, have you ever done something like this before?"

"No!" The Slayer exclaimed almost manic like, before another wide jolt from the shuttle demanded their exit. "Go!"

And with that, he leaped out of the shuttle, Lillian taking note and jumping with him, the purple biotic cushion around them at it's strongest as the pair descended through the clouds towards the battlefield some stories below...

* * *

**Was going to go into further detail, but its long enough. As always, please comment and all that, it makes the story go faster when you do.**


	5. Cry Havoc Strike

**Wow, how did this end up being so long, I have no idea. Still, I'm pretty sure the next one won't be nearly as half as long. **

**On a less eccentric note, I consider this one to be the best yet; it's got hopefully good dialogue and doesn't cop out on the action this time, as well as the first signs of a potential romantic plot point that will be touched upon in upcoming chapters.**

* * *

The standard UT-47A Kodiak shuttle is capable of supporting up to fourteen people, and still have room for a substantial amount of cargo. The Alliance has been employing this particular model all over their fronts in the Reaper War. Known for their reliability, there is not a single Kodiak shuttle across the galaxy that is not either in the skies or moments away from taking flight. The insides are a rather dull sight, with no windows and only the sterile looking blueish green interior to offer to passengers. There is however, one particular shiny looking panel that offer a reflection to it's observer, which is how one passenger in particular came to find themselves standing in front of.

Decked out in their soft but sturdy armour, the figure stood stoically observing themselves in the relative decent reflection. Though they looked completely unresponsive in their armour, it felt comforting to be observing them nonetheless. The head behind the helmet felt a sudden jab of pain in their head, and raised a gloved hand to reach it in response, but found themselves denied by the helm, inducing a very strange feeling of claustrophobia to the figure. So, deciding that they had been viewing the world through this helmet long enough, the figure brought both their hands to the clasps of their helmet, fiddling only for a little while before they heard an assuring click and they pulled the helmet clean off their head.

Instantly, a few loose strands of raven locks descended down the Shadow's face, tickling her by dancing freely across her brow. She lay her helmet carefully upon one of the seats adorning the wall of the shuttle, before returning her gloved hands to her face. But even still, the soft fabric banned her from properly her skin, so now she turned her focus to the gloves themselves, determined that they soon become hands. That was a little trickier then freeing her helm, for they were fastened tight to the length of her arms and demanded a few tense moments of the Shadow attempting to free her hands without damaging her suit.

Eventually however, she managed to accomplish the surprisingly complex task, and now cast her gloves aside to join her helmet before she brought her hands to her face at last. The feel proved slightly shocking, for her hands were distinctly cold, while her face proved humid and flustered. But it was worth it just for the feel alone; encased in that suit, the Shadow would on occasion feel that her mind was disconnected from her body, like she was dictating to a metal automation to preform it's duty. Now the Shadow did her best to rearrange her cascade of jet black hair into a nice compressed bun, for it would be immensely distracting if it were to come loose in her helm in the thick of combat. Satisfied with the job, the Shadow now simply observed herself through the reflective plate. She looked very different to the helmet, what with it's unresponsive metal stare. The Shadow preformed a few facial gestures, just to make sure she herself was not made of metal, before a sharp jolt of pain sprang in her head once again, her hands flying instinctively to her head.

It had dawned on the Shadow that drinking so much the previous night had perhaps not been the wisest of decisions to make. But even as she came upon that realisation, already did she have an immense lust for yet another liquor intake. Perhaps a strange thing to think considering her state, but there were no doubts and worries when she was in such a state. And there was something in particular that she had done the previous night that had made her worry immensely. Simply thinking of what she had done with the Demolisher stirred a very strange feeling in her stomach, one of immense foolishness and regret.

Ah, stupid Shadow. Stupid stupid Shadow. She hadn't thought of how stupid the whole thing was when she was so very close to the Demolisher, but now that she was so very far away, the sheer stupidity of her actions was all the more apparent. Maybe the Demolisher was thinking something similar wherever she was, and just the mere thought of where the Demolisher might be was making the Shadow shake with worry. She shouldn't have drunk so much, it wouldn't have made her do what she did, the two of them should have parted on good terms, as friends, content with the knowledge that they would meet again someday. Yet instead, the thought that the Demolisher may be in danger, and that she may never see her again, was inducing panic on the already panic stricken Shadow.

A foolish thing, an incredibly foolish thing indeed. She should have confessed to the poor Demolisher, have told her everything she felt about her. About how much the Shadow's heart fluttered immensely when she saw the Demolisher smile, about how she had come to particularly admire her fellow N7 Operative as of late. And especially, about how her actions the following night, had not been the carefree result of a drunken stupor, but rather a good attempt to get close to her in what may have been the last damn personal moment they would ever share.

Well it was too late now. One big ocean of space separated her from the one soul in the galaxy she desperately wanted to see right now. One big ocean and a hell of a long time, maybe forever, all the Shadow had to go on was the slim promise that perhaps, just perhaps, she might get through this and be given another chance to see the Demolisher again and tell her everything she had kept shut up in her head for so long.

The Shadow worked herself into such a state that she completely forgot to register the fact that the shuttle had landed. It was only when the pilot had turned back to address her that she noted how still everything was, not hearing the rumble or feeling the vibrations in the walls.

"This is your stop, Miss."

The Shadow stood emotionless for a second, before the sight of the doors opening snapped her back. So, picking up her helmet and gloves, she rather clumsily hopped out.

* * *

The first things she noticed was the bright flash of light that caused her to shield her face by indistinctly putting her helmet back on, before attending to her gloves. Now that her eyes where protected, the Shadow could make out her surroundings, consisting of a wide assortment of soldiers of various races going about their business at a rather frantic pace. The Shadow got the distinct impression that this was a scene of urgency, that the Reapers were not too far off. She might have known more, but owing to her state, she had completely forgotten to read her dossier, which she now made the notion to display on her Omni-Tool.

But before she could do that, her ears were drawn to an unfamiliar voice uttering a familiar word.

"Shadow! Shadow." The voice went as the Shadow analysed her surroundings for it's source.

Her eyes were met with the image of a tall armoured figure making it's way through the thicket of people. The Shadow could detect it was moving frantically like it was late for something, but soon it closed the gap. The moment it was given a chance to rest, it immediately hunched over, coughing and panting through it's helm. Now that they were close, the Shadow found it all too obvious that it was the tall armoured figure of a turian that was spluttering in front of her. She was eagerly awaiting the time when he would eventually get over his fatigue and introduce himself, but to her surprise, he ended up going on like that for quite some time.

"Sh...Sha..." The armoured turian spluttered out in an attempt to get over his exhaustion.

The Shadow simple waited for him in her own time patiently. It gave her a good image to make of his armour. Unlike the few previous types of turian armour she had seen, this one looked special, featuring a highly polished plating that gleamed a dark blue colour, adorned with various silver linings that was a decent pattern in her opinion. One feature that struck out in particular was a series of markings along the ridge of the head, some letters of the turian alphabet that she could not decipher, but gave the impression that this turian belonged to a very prestigious legion.

"Shadow." He said coherently at last. "N7 Shadow?"

"Yes." She stated formally.

He raised his gauntlet to his helmet. "I am Lieutenant Attacus of the 26th Armiger Legion."

"Diana Schatten." She extended her hand.

"Ah! Well in that case." He exclaimed in delight, before clearing his throat. "Guten Morgen Fräulein Schatten, ich bin Leutnant Attacus der 26. Armiger Legion."

For once in a long time, the Shadow was genuinely surprise, and thus stood speechless accordingly.

"Did I get that right?" The turian known as Attacus asked in concern.

"How did you even..." The Shadow asked in alarm.

Attacus chuckled to himself. "I spent three years living in Stuttgart. I know German when I see it. Or hear it actually."

"That's nice." The Shadow uttered, now experiencing a sense of comfort in his hidden depths, as well as surprise that her accent was coming through so strong. "Anything else about you that I should know about?"

"Well..." Attacus began. "Is this this one thing. I got propulsion packs."

"Propulsion packs?" She asked confused.

"Jetpacks." He stated.

"Jetpacks!" She exclaimed. "Where?"

"In here." Attacus gestured at various points in his armour. "Can't use them now though, too crowded. Otherwise I probably would have flown the gap and you wouldn't have had to wait for me to catch my breath."

"Anything else?" She asked, keeping the surprise in her voice to a minimum.

"Not off the top of my head." The turian said. "But anyways, let's get you to the rest of the team shall we?"

"Let's." The Shadow replied, allowing him to lead her off into the crowd.

She followed the turian through the cluster of soldiers, none of them paying her heed, which was the way she liked it. Unlike some of her more ego driven teammates, the Shadow wasn't one to bask in the admiration that her position allowed her. Though she may have been many illustrious things, at the end of the day, it wouldn't be her that would be the one to show the Reapers what humanity is capable of. It was just as that thought passed through her head that she laid eyes upon one soldier of the crowd in particular. It was a moment that she quickly got over, but for the briefest second she swore she was staring straight at the Demolisher.

"Haven't you got any luggage?" Attacus called back to her, while the Shadow noticed the space between them and caught up fast.

"Just what's on my back." She said simply.

"A sword?" The turian said disbelievingly noticing the object across her back.

"It's enough." She said snappishly.

"If you say so." He replied. "I guess that makes you, what a ninja?"

Attacus gave another chuckle, whilst the Shadow, feeling a little offended was quick to correct.

"I prefer the term Infiltrator." She said with a strong hint of pride, as she often sounded like when discussing her profession.

"Oh. Well, there'll be a lot of infiltrating to do up ahead." Attacus said. "But you know that, you've read your dossier, of course."

"Well..." The Shadow was about to admit otherwise, but was struck speechless once again when a figure happened across the pair, making them stop.

For what was becoming surprisingly frequent, the Shadow felt shock in an instant at the figure that she now lay eyes on. Unlike Attacus, she did not require any second glances or a closer inspection to make out which member of the many races she was staring at. There was no mistaking that shape she had only seen once or twice in passing before, but had been enough of an impression to get lodged in her mind. She had heard the odd cautionary tale about this species, and it was hardly ever anything good. Yet for some reason, underneath all the immense mistrust and suspicion she felt, the prospect that she might actually be fighting alongside one of these seemed quite comforting for a sudden change. Because, while she had had good experience fighting alongside her fellow humans, and had good knowledge of the immense military might of the turians, never before had she seen what one of these was like in a fight.

And, as she recalled, she had never heard a vorcha talk before.

"Ah there you are." Attacus noticed the vorcha. "Oh right, Diana Schatten, meet... Cupcake."

"Cupcake?" The Shadow parroted in yet another bout of surprise.

"Cupcake." The turian said, obviously not getting why she found it so baffling. "What is it, Cupcake?"

"Cupcake" seemed agitated for a vorcha. The sharp claws were fiddling in a surprisingly human like gesture, while his feet were struggling to keep themselves to the ground. The Shadow found humour in likening him to the Slayer, and reasoned it to the perceived aggressive nature of the vorcha. All this standing around waiting for the fight to start must have been hard on someone like... "Cupcake".

"When... When." The vorcha struggled to start, though the Shadow had to complement him for his ability to talk. "When are we going?"

"Well." Attacus replied quite pleasantly. "This is the Shadow, she's the last unit so pretty quick, I'd say."

The vorcha in front of the pair suddenly let out a snarl and darted off, to the Shadow's surprise.

"Hasn't been able to stand still all night." Attacus explained with a faint laugh at his teammate's plight.

"Don't you think that might be a problem?" She asked with concern.

"No, it's pretty typical behaviour for a vorcha. Go easy on him, he's only twelve?" Attacus continued.

"Cupcake?" The Shadow said, slightly amused.

"Yeah that doesn't seem like a fairly typical vorcha name either. Probably read it somewhere, if he can read that is." The turian further elaborated as the two followed in Cupcake's wake.

Eventually they came to a spacious area containing one big holo board, aside which Cupcake was pacing around franticly, growling to himself at the inaction. While next to the board, on a seat that was against some crates, was the shape of a quarian. Compared to the frantic vorcha, this suited up humanoid appeared to be within a deep sleep, resting his legs upon a crate with his helmet hung upon his shoulders. The presence of a quarian was enough to cause a whirlwind of swirling thoughts within the Shadow's head. But Attacus must have foreseen what she was about to ask, and quickly addressed her before she opened her mouth.

"Err, before we wake him up." He began. "There's somethings I have to warn you about."

"Like what?" She asked cautiously.

"Please don't ask him all the things you really want to ask him about. Partially anything concerning the Migrant Fleet or the Geth." Attacus informed her quite demandingly.

"Well shoot, that's exactly what I want to ask him about." The Shadow remarked bitterly.

"Please." Attacus declared. "For the sake of cooperation. Please don't. Okay?"

"Fine." She admitted defeat.

"Thank you for being so understanding." The turian said gratefully, before turning on the slumbering quarian. "Hans, oh Hans..."

He gently prodded the quarian on the shoulder, but to no avail, as he simply continued to dose.

"Come on Hans, I know you've had a long trip but..."

"WAKE UP QUARIAN!" Cupcake screeched at the resting figure, causing him to jump awake, crashing to the floor, knocking crates about.

For a few entertaining seconds, the Shadow watched the quarian stumble back to life, breathing heavily from within his masked helm before he turned on the vorcha who had crudely awoken him.

"I heard you the first time you bosh'tet. When did you sound so turian anyway... oh my heads spinning." He slurred angrily whilst gripping his mask in a protective grasp.

"Hans Rorikstay vas Qwib-Qwib." Attacus addressed the quarian in a formal yet demanding tone, causing him to turn to the turian, like a dog addressing his master.

"I thought I told you never to call me by that." The quarian known as Hans demanded, and the Shadow could understand why

"Well how else was I supposed to get your attention?" Attacus pleaded before gesturing to the Shadow beside him. "Diana Schatten. Meet Hans, he's the sneaky cloaky sort like you."

A fellow Infiltrator? Well that was enough for the Shadow to be concerned. Amongst her team, she was the only one to have mastered the use of the cloak, and considered herself an expert in the way of the blade (no matter what the Slayer may say). Yet here was another player in the art of infiltration, and he was a quarian to boot. This could prove quite the pleasant change, or the most infuriating. Hans offered a three fingered hand, quite amiable despite his previous grumbling, which the Shadow took, finding some difficulty in initiating a decent handshake with her three additional digits.

"Glad to see you're getting along." Attacus stated pleasantly, though the pair of them were silent and stoic beneath their suits and giving no indication that they had good intentions towards each other. "Now that we're here, let's go over the plan."

The armoured turian walked over to the big board, joined shortly by his companions. In comparison to the fairly average Hans and Shadow, with the hunched Cupcake, he easily towered over the three of them, and thus felt the most in charge. Typing into the terminal, a holographic model manifested over the board in an instant. To the Shadow, it looked like some kind of installation, likely the target that they would be hitting today. Back in N7, Attacus' position would have been taken by the Destroyer, or... Demolisher.

While she would have contented herself to remain in the shadows, silently observing the scene and understanding the parts that required her attention. But in this particular instance, with hardly any shadows to sulk in, and not having any understanding of what lay ahead, the Shadow was a bit more attentive as she listened to Attacus explain the plan.

"This was the main fuel refinery in this section of the planet." He began. "Now however, it recently became a Cerberus operation..."

"Cerberus? Cerberus!" The Shadow interrupted him far too quickly then she imagined. "Not Reapers?"

"Yes Miss, that is correct." Attacus replied. "But you know that already, you've read your dossier haven't you?"

She knew that was going to come back to trip her up at some stage.

"Well... No." The Shadow confessed, causing Hans standing next to her to groan in his mask.

"No?" It was Attacus' turn to act surprise. "How did you forget t do something like that, even Cupcake here's read his, haven't you Cupcake?"

"I..." The vorcha uttered. "Yes, I did... There was going to be lots of flames, when are we going?"

"Soon, soon." Attacus did his best to ease the vorcha, whose impatience seemed contagious. "Well I guess it's a good thing I'm going over this then."

"Well maybe..." The Shadow was about to begin, but Hans beat her to it.

"Look. Whether you read something or not can't be helped now. So let's just get on with this so we can get to the fighting and not have to stand here bickering back and forth pointlessly." He demanded, sharing Cupcake's agitation.

"Quite right you are Hans." Attacus responded, before turning back to the board, while the Shadow stood quiet and defeated. "As I was saying. This is now a Cerberus installation. From what we can tell, they're planning to use this depot to fuel their own starships. While they hold this, it's going to be hard for us to properly combat them in this sector of space. That's where we come in."

He input some commands into the console, and the holographic model of the facility zoomed itself in, focusing on the back, allowing the team to get a better look.

"Noe for obvious reasons." Attacus continued. "They would see any shuttle coming in through the front in no time. But it is possible to drop a small team about a mile off from the back and have them work their way up. This is the job for our residents Infiltrators."

Hans brought his hands behind his back, in an attempt to appear formal and slightly proud, while the Shadow simply moved in closer, finding the back of the blue model all the more relevant now.

"Hans and Diana will be dropped off behind the facility." The turian resumed. "It's up to you two to sneak into the place undetected. As soon as you're in, you're to plant three charges each at these key locations."

He highlighted the aforementioned locations on the model, and the Shadow made sure to keep note, managing through the excitement she was starting to feel.

"As soon as you've done that." Attacus went on. "It should be obvious what to do next."

He pressed a key on the terminal, causing parts of the model to artificially explode, the Shadow growing eager in the sight.

"And that's where me and Cupcake come in." He said, igniting the vorcha's interest in the model. "We've got to ensure there's no chance of Cerberus using that place to gain any more of a foothold on this planet then they already have. Any questions?"

"I've one." The Shadow asked. "Has anyone here fought Cerberus before?"

"Only me I'm afraid." Attacus replied, Hans avoiding her gaze and Cupcake simply growling at the chance to fight something. "Still, shouldn't be too hard. We're all trained professionals. Except you Cupcake, I don't know what training you've got."

"Training to burn something." The vorcha replied lustfully. "Can we go now?"

"Yes I believe we can." Attacus responded positively.

He led the group to a shuttle docked close by. All aboard they scrambled, after choosing their load out from the makeshift armoury they had set up. Attacus picked out a durable rifle of turian make, Cupcake went for a machine gun of unknown origins, but seemed far too occupied with checking what appeared to be some kind of flamethrower embedded in the Omni-Tool on his wrist. Hans picked out a particular sturdy sniper rifle but was more concerned with making sure his suit was sturdy enough, since one little exposure was practically death for a quarian. And the Shadow simply picked out the lightest pistol that she could barely feel in her hands, and stroke her blade affectionately, looking forward to the time when she would be sinking it into whatever Cerberus had to offer.

Attacus took to the pilots seat, while Hans and the Shadow settled in, examining the charges they would be using. The Shadow found them to be rather small yet cumbersome, not to mention delicate, as they clanged together on her holster noisily. Hoping they wouldn't be the death of her, she settled in her seat, finding the interior of yet another shuttle slightly more bearable with company this time round.

* * *

The subsequent shuttle ride was far too brief for the Shadow to get comfortable. In no time at all, the little vehicle had descended to the ground once again, barely emitting anything more than a light hum, considering how close they were to the enemy fortification.

"This is your stop." Attacus remarked to the duo of human and quarian, who stood, awaiting for the doors to open, which they soon did.

Hans and the Shadow hopped out of the craft, while their vorcha companion was hunched over the edge of the craft, fighting the urge to join them.

"Not you Cupcake." Hans proclaimed in a demanding tone, causing the vorcha to retreat back into the shuttle, irritated.

Attacus wasted no time in closing the doors and sending the little craft into the air once more, not completely abandoning them, but making sure not to draw attention.

"Well, shall we?" The quarian gestured to the Shadow.

"Lets." She replied, eager to get going, and the two set off across the plains.

Plenty of grassland did they march through, having no need to activate their cloaks just yet. Though it was a pleasant enough sight, it reminded the Shadow all too much of her N7 training days, having been dumped in many a wilderness area quite like this one, days away from the nearest aid, having to rely on only her talents and what little equipment she had on her. The Shadow had her blade out, and was fingering its incredibly sharp edge, a strange kind of nostalgia upon her as she did so, having many memories relating to the sword. Some of them she remembered fondly, others, not so much, for the things she had done with her weapon in the most brutal days of her training were hardly the sort of things she wanted to remember.

"You must really like that thing, huh?" Hans asked of her cautiously, as if he was reading her mind.

The Shadow heard his voice a little quieter then usual, for she was caught up in her remembrance of the old days. She acknowledged him however, and found that she had been fondling her sword so carelessly that she had caused a light cut in one of her gloves. Wincing only slightly, she withdrew her blade back into the holster strapped across her back.

"More then you think." She remarked eccentrically.

"That's nice." Hans noted with concern growing in his voice. "But really, a sword over a sniper rifle?"

"It's not just any old sword." The Shadow said, taking slight offence at his tone. "Its… monomolecular."

"Monomolecular?" The quarian parroted back in disbelief. "That sounds like something science fiction. What exactly about "monomolecular" makes it so special?"

"It means _very sharp._" She insisted. "It can cut like right down to the atoms. Also…"

She drew her blade yet again, held in her hand with finesse, and preformed an acrobatic flip that shot out a blue current of electricity that cascaded a good long feet in front of her before fizzing out.

"Well that's a lot fancier then "monomolecular", at least. Hans remarked casually, before his tone elevated when he noticed the sword suddenly combust in flames.

The Shadow however, was barely concerned with the spontaneous reaction of her blade. She certainly liked the way it did that, and considered herself a true swordswoman to handle such a contraption. It was certainly something the Slayer was incapable of.

"So it's really sharp, can shoot electricity, and can set things on fire." Hans listed the blades potentials, becoming more impressed as he spoke. "Still, hardly going to go with it over a sniper rifle."

"Umm actually…" The Shadow confessed. "It can't set things on fire."

"What." The quarian exclaimed, losing all the wonder in his voice in an instant. "So… what are the flames for?"

"Well." She struggled to get out. "Nothing really."

"Nothing?" His tone turned to disbelief. "So you have a blade that's somehow capable of shooting electricity, yet also capable of bursting into completely non-lethal fire."

The Shadow stood struggling to find a counterargument. "…Its monomolecular!"

"Right." Hans said unconvinced. "Of course it is."

He continued the march, joined at a rather slower pace by the Shadow, who was rubbing her blade affectionately as if he had insulted it. She certainly felt hurt herself.

Eventually came upon a rise overlooking what could be the only installation that they sought. At first, there was no sign of anything that they could relate to Cerberus, but they soon laid their visors upon the sight of a ship rising from the midst of the facility, before it took for the stars. Even at this distance, there was no mistaking the black, white and yellow décor that the Shadow was only passingly familiar with before.

"They just can't seem to stop flailing their little logo everywhere." Hans remarked irritated. "At least the Reapers aren't so egocentric."

"You said it." She agreed. "So, let's get going then."

The Shadow descended down the slope, finding the distance still acceptable to not have to utilise her cloak yet. Hans followed suit, and the pair soon found themselves at the very bottom of the immense wall that barred them entrance into the back of the facility. It would have been a tight defence, had it not been for one sizable pipe that delved straight through the mighty wall.

"A pipe." The Shadow remarked with notable disgust. "I was hoping not to get dirty today."

"That's understandable." Hans said as he bent down to gain entrance into the tight but spacious enough hole. "If you want to wait and let a proper Infiltrator get to work, I shouldn't take long."

He delved on into the opening without waiting for a reply, but found the Shadow catching up to him in no time, feeling hurt a second time.

It wasn't that bad, now that she was in. Her suit was protecting her from the feel and her helmet from the smell. The Shadow reckoned she'd be drenched in blood of some kind by the days end anyway, so a little dirty space was hardly going to be the death of her. To her delight, the pair came out onto an opening, finding themselves in a wide spacious sewer like room, though if she knew it there was a strong smell of fuel lingering in the air. The Shadow took some time to brush her suit down, attempting to get rid of the sticky substances that clung to her, before she withdrew her blade and did the same, doting over the weapon like she would on a child. Hans meanwhile, took a good look of the area, before consulting his Omni-Tool for reference.

"Ah, if I'm not mistaken." He muttered to himself, before taking out one of the explosives from his belt, and fastening it carefully to the wall.

"Where to next?" The Shadow asked.

"Let me check." Hans consulted a primitive map of the facility on his device. "Looks like we have to get up there."

He turned to a wall, covered all over with an immense maze of pipes. Hans did not entertain the thought of attempting to climb up such a labyrinth of metal, but the Shadow looked upon the sight with a very different take. After crawling through the cramped pipe, her joints were now urging for a chance to get stretchy, and the sight of all those pipes provided an ample opportunity to do so.

"My time to shine." She uttered with stars in her eyes, and before Hans could respond, the Shadow had leapt onto the lowest pipe and commenced her climb.

It certainly would have proven difficult for the lowly soldier. But the Shadow was no lowly soldier, she was an N7 Operative, and her body twisted and bended itself into that of a snake, her contours winding and waving to distribute the weight of her shape where she could climb the swiftest. Her hands manoeuvred around the metal bends and up the steel pipes as if they had been designed for her to do so. More then once the Shadow found herself to rotate her body to find a new path, but not once did she ever feel like she was going to fall, not even when she hanged from a small ledge by her fingertips or when her legs dangled carelessly, threatening to submit to gravity. Up she climbed, eventually reaching the top and managing to make a perfect somersault onto the landing, the Shadow stood triumphant, not even a slight bit out of breath, over the vertical maze of metal, and turned to find herself face to face with…

"Hans!" She exclaimed with shock. "How did you get up here?"

"Didn't you see the ladder?" He gestured to outline of a ladder that descended in a straight line down the wall, completely bypassing the metal maze of pipes.

"You could have told me." The Shadow said, growing slightly frustrated in how swift her accomplishment had been deconstructed.

"You looked like you were having fun." The quarian replied casually, before he waltzed off. The Shadow stood only for a moment, realising that it had been a lot of fun, before she followed.

On the pair crept, finding the quaint silence of the works soon started to subside as the sound of footsteps and the sound of machinery reached their ears under their helms. Coming up to a wide spacious room, the pair could make out the bustle of activity going on above them. Hans suddenly motioned for the Shadow to pause before he consulted his Omni-Tool, examining it for a second before he addressed her.

"Can you link up your helmet to my Tool?" He asked.

"Let me check." The Shadow responded before manifesting her Omni-Tool across her forearm. "Got it."

"Watch this." Hans announced, taking his device and, pointing his arm at the ceiling above them, waved the Omni-Tool across in a scan.

Slowly, the Shadow could make out the red silhouettes of various figure manifest through the metalwork. The figure only persisted for a while before fading, but what she could gather was that there was a lot of them, and they were heavily armed to boot. And she was standing directly below them.

"Guess we ought to cloak." Hans remarked before his form shimmered into a barely recognisable sliver, prompting the Shadow to follow suit.

Slowly, the pair crept upwards, going about it as silently, but also as professionally as their occupations allowed them. Eventually they reached a ladder that led straight up through an open hatch and into the outside. The Shadow felt the familiar glare of the sun and and the tingle of the slight breeze, but all that was secondary to a figure she laid eyes on, standing a few feet directly in front of her, with it's back turned. Now her heart was starting to beat intensely, but she managed to remain stoic as she crept her form up to the figure, drew her sword and, almost subconsciously, shot it straight through the armoured back.

It was only when the figure crumbled to the ground with it's back almost completely stained red and the Shadow had slung her blade back over her back did she realise how incredibly conspicuous her kill looked, and how much of a blatant assailant she looked standing over it, her black form standing out in the scene. Fortunately, there was no one about, and she quickly dumped the corpse into the opening from which she had emerged, noticing Hans planting another explosive charge onto the wall opposite them.

The quarian performed another scan from his Omni-Tool, and the duo could make out a few distant shapes, right in the direction they needed to go. So, activating their cloaks once again, they crept their way around, taking care to avoid any direct encounters, realising that their cloaks did not render them completely invisible.

As they went about their task of infiltration, the Shadow got more then enough of a good look at how a Cerberus installation was run. Troops patrolled in formation, most comprised of a very distinct yet common looking white armour with black and orange highlights, while there were occasional figures that stood out. Some feminine forms with sniper rifles slung across their back, some with armour that looked impressively hardened and others with portable devices on their backs, the purpose of which she could not discern but imagined she would soon be finding out.

But if there was one universal factor the platoons all shared in common was how automated they all moved. What figures of flesh that occupied the suits of metal, the Shadow had no idea what kind of people they were, but if they could have taken a good look at themselves preforming this robot like march, she doubted that they would be very happy about it. At least there was no second guessing the Reapers; they all moved in one hideous mockery of a movement, simple grotesque caricatures of the races they once were. But with Cerberus, it was hard to tell what their intentions were, and it was very unsettling how human they all looked.

The Shadow and Hans had just finished planting their penultimate charges in position, and were close to the final location, when they rounded a bend that looked onto a big clearing within the compound, filled with various troops stationed all about the place. Compared to the narrow spaces they had previously navigated with ease, there would be no getting around this lot. So they paused, resting against the wall to discuss their next course of action.

"That's too many for us." Hans remarked at the obvious scene before them. "Going to need the others here."

"Attacus?" The Shadow hushed into her Omni-Tool. "You there?"

A few moments of static responded to her before the turian came in. "We're here. Got a problem?"

"I think it's time to drop the whole infiltration act." She said. "Can you make it?"

"That's a pretty risky thing you're asking." The turian's voice. "How many charges have you set?"

"All but one." She replied.

"Well then." Attacus' voice went. " If you were to detonate the ones you've set, we should be able to dive in before they can shoot us down. Give us two minutes to get into position."

"Got it." The Shadow said, ending the conversation and wiping her arm of the orange tool from her arm.

"Y'know I'm sort of looking forward to how you're going to get around with just a sword." Hans remarked at the growing conflict, whilst readying his sniper rifle.

"Well if I do my job." The Shadow responded. "You won't see me."

"Oh clever." He said snidely. "Still, if you can get through this with just a sword, I reckon that's worthy of some faint praise."

"You just worry about yourself." She replied, a little loudly that made her gasp with fright as Hans took a glance round the corner to see if she had done something rather stupid.

"We're alright." He said, noticing none of the troops up ahead had noticed. Deciding to take out a grenade as a precaution, he held the device loosely in his hand before turning back to the Shadow. "Try not to - what is it?"

Though he was looking at an emotionless suit of armour, the quarian could tell that something about his grenade had stirred something else within the Shadow's form. Inside the suit, the Shadow's vision had become entirely focused on the grenade within his hand. She knew its make, the blue cylinder shaped that produced a dizzying whirlwind of electricity that disrupted shields and barriers. She knew this because she had seen it in use many a time before.

It was the kind the Demolisher used.

"Ah, nothing." She hushed back, getting over her brief pang of remembrance quickly.

Hans would have called her out, but this was not the right time for such an activity. "Should be about time for you to detonate those charges."

"Gotcha." The Shadow replied, fumbling in her suit for the small detonator, which she held carefully in her palm.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Hans said, noticing her state of inaction.

"Gotcha." She repeated before subsequently activating the little device.

The first explosion they heard occurred some distance far behind them, but the next one rocked the ground below them, almost like they had triggered an earthquake. Then the next blew a mighty piece of debris from a nearby building into the field in front of them, causing immense havoc to the Cerberus troops, which was then followed by their fourth explosion, which blew up right behind them, forcing the duo to the duck and dive to avoid the oncoming debris. Getting to her feet in one swift acrobatic flip, the Shadow rushed to see if Hans had been so lucky, finding him only slightly bruised next to an exceptionally large piece of debris made him look even more fortunate then her for dodging it.

Now that the two had properly recovered, they soon found that the cluster of Cerberus troops had recovered as well, and were now attempting to analyse the situation. But before their gaze fell upon the human and quarian, the last explosion rocked the facility, disrupting their efforts before the sound of engines suddenly reached the ears of all, and the shape of the team's Kodiak shuttle raced overheard, its doors opening and the small figure of a vorcha diving out. Cupcake landed upon the shoulders of one unlucky trooper, and before he could react, unleashed two red blazing blade from the Omni-Tools on his arms and dug them straight into the trooper's neck, cutting the head clean off.

The Shadow made the motion to get up and rush to Cupcake's aid, but found that Hans had drawn his arm across her chest, making her pause and turn to him.

"I think Cupcake can handle this." He said with some excitement, whilst the Shadow felt confused, but found Cupcake's next movements to put her at ease.

Cerberus only properly noticed the vorcha in their midst when he let out a blood curdling cry, but before they could properly react to his presence, he had pounced on the nearest trooper, Omni-Blades blazing and decapitated him in another swift slash. That only served to increase the lust for further violence within Cupcake, who then threw a cluster of grenades into the Cerberus troops, exploding with a very distinct clang, before he raised his other hand, Omni-Tool active and followed up with a dazzling burst of flame. The vorcha darted his hand in all directions, creating a thick fog of fire that danced all around the troops it touched, causing them all to shriek and fumble about in panic. It was only then that Cupcake felt the first volley of energy pellets burn into his side, but he soon darted out of the way and pounced on the soldier that had shot him, reducing him to a bloody mess with his blades.

Now the vorcha was properly contending with the garrison of Cerberus troops. The ones that hadn't been burned or decapitated all opened fire upon his figure, but where blood splattered from his wounds, the cells rapidly formed to begin regenerating his cuts. If Cupcake had been standing still rooted to the spot, Cerberus may have managed to cause him some damage, but that was not the case. When he wasn't darting out of their volley of bullets, he was slicing them to pieces or giving them a face full of fire, occasionally throwing the odd grenade too. There seemed to be no end to his fury, the scarce blood he spilt, he returned by making it pour from the garrison of troops that was growing ever so small in size. The Shadow observed the vorcha going to work and realised that she, an N7 Operative capable of remarkable feats in the field of combat, was being outdone by a twelve year old member of what was considered the vermin race of the galaxy. If she bobbed like a ballerina, he boogied like a break dancer.

Eventually Cupcake had single handily dismantled the immense garrison of Cerberus troops to a bloody assortment of pulverised metal, severed heads and burning flesh. Whereas a human, turian or quarian may have felt completely drained by such a feat, what the vorcha was doing suggested that he was really just getting started. Standing on the corpse of a more or less intact trooper, he drew his claws and let out another cry of lust.

"I'm alive!" He screeched at the bloody assortment.

"That you are." Hans exclaimed, announcing his presence to his vorcha teammate.

Cupcake almost looked like he was ready to gut the quarian if it meant spilling more blood, but he managed to contain himself, before a certain occurrence triggered his lust for blood again.

An immense hulk of a figure thundered to the ground close by the vorcha. From what the Shadow could gather, it looked like an immense metal mech of some kind, hunched into a square package before its frame started to stir. The mechanical contraption now towered over the trio, the image of a Cerberus trooper could be seen in its orange cockpit, before it raised one of its big metal forearms, a cannon of sorts embedded within and shot out one rocket towards the vorcha standing close by.

Cupcake survived, but barely. Now his form was enveloped in a layer of fire that his regenerative biology was having trouble properly attending to. The gargantuan mech would have likely fire another rocket, but at that moment, Hans had fired one shot from his sniper rifle, under the cover of cloak, which hit with such force it caused the metal menace to stagger, before he threw a grenade right at it, hitting it square in its cockpit and damaging it immensely. But the mech simply recovered and turned its attention to the quarian, who darted to cover, not wanting to be on the receiving end of one of its rockets. The Shadow leapt to cover too, not possessing the regenerative capabilities of Cupcake, and finding its metal hide a little tough for her sword.

"Keelah, Atlas!" Hans remarked bitterly. "Shadow, if we keep this thing occupied, could you manage to get to the next target?"

"With pleasure." She replied, before giving him a courteous wave and flipping out of cover, darting past the newly christened Atlas, which pounded the ground in an attempt to bludgeon her, but missed and now found itself facing a full front assault of fire from the newly rejuvenated Cupcake.

The Shadow sped like a gazelle, darting through the burning facility, dodging wreckage and surviving troopers with ease. There was no point in engaging them, she wasn't built for the kind of long drawn out fighting, rather the kind to carefully pick off targets and dissolving into cloak, something the intense environment did not afford her. Soon enough, she came upon the last target that would ensure the total destruction of the facility as soon as she placed her charge. Doing so, the Shadow was about to make the mad dash back to Hans and Cupcake when she felt a shot of pain enter her shoulder. Recovering in no time at all, she swung her form around to dodge any more potential painful projectiles, but the figure that she now laid her eyes on made her completely pause in her tracks.

It was her, the Shadow. Except it wasn't really the Shadow, no, it couldn't be, where her suit was mostly black all over, this figures was mostly comprised of black, white and orange. But that wasn't what was so damn freaky about her, it was the fact that she was in an acrobatic pose similar to the Shadow, and in her hand was a…

"Monomolecular?" The Shadow had time to utter fearfully before the Cerberus fatale closed the gap between them and swung her sword, the Shadow reacting in time and dodging appropriately.

Well two could play at that game. The Shadow drew her own blade, and brought it to meet with the imposter. The two weapons clashed, and while the Shadow had got over her shock, she could sense that the figure occupied the faceless suit was clearly not expecting this. The assailant withdrew and backed up in a sinisterly canny acrobatic flip similar to the Shadow, before she aimed her palm at the N7 Operative and shot out another projectile that hit the Shadow square in her chest, shattering her shields in a single stroke. The loss of her protective field would have been enough for her to retreat in any other scenario. But facing this particular opponent simply made her howl with fury.

"Nicht über mich lustig!" She yelled, before lunging at the imposter, not granting her another opportunity to use her ranged weapon.

The Shadow was relentless in her attack. Maybe something triggered in her when she was witnessing Cupcake's massacre, or maybe it was the fact that this despicable ninja of Cerberus bore so many similarities to her that was causing her to act in such a way. Regardless, she would not give up, and swung and stabbed with all her might, determined to see the end of this opponent. As it turned out, fighting in such a state of rage can cause something of a disadvantage, and so the Shadow found herself swinging a bit more ferociously, causing her to slip up and allow her opponent to slice her suit in a way that caused her to stagger back, the vigour in her knocked out in response to the breach, and she fell to the floor.

The mockery of a Shadow did not retreat to perform her projectile attack again, rather she descended upon the vulnerable Shadow with her blade, intending to carry out an execution. But just as the sword was moments away from impaling the Shadow in the heart, she felt something immensely heavy and blunt slam into her at such a force that it threw her directly into the wall at such a speed that she was embedded in the metal work, while her sword fell to the ground right next to the Shadow, who upon recovering to her feet stomped on it, cleaving the blade in two, before she turned to face her rescuer.

The tall armoured frame of Attacus hovered above the diminutive Shadow, propelled up by four fissures in his armour that were fuming with a slight fire, before they settled down and the turian joined his human teammate. Observing the broken Cerberus foe in the wall, he sighed to himself of how destructive his crash had been.

"Phantom. Nasty piece of work." He remarked with notable disgust. "You alright?"

"I am thanks to you." She replied, catching her breath.

"Don't mention it." He responded. "Just try not to run into any more of those, okay."

"You mean there's more of them!" The Shadow exclaimed with alarm.

"Ok yes." The turian said. "Many more. Anyway, I think we're done here."

He was interrupted by the sight of yet another one of those Atlas mechs suddenly descending upon the two, emerging from behind a corner like some gargantuan ninja.

"Time to go!" Attacus exclaimed, before he grabbed the Shadow by pulling his arms under hers, activating his propulsion packs and jetting the two away, just in time to avoid one of the rockets aimed at their location.

The Shadow felt immense discomfort in being dragged around by the flying turian. But seeing as he was going at a much faster rate in the air then she could have even done on the ground, she decided not to complain too much. The two soon joined up with Hans and Cupcake, standing over a recently demolished Atlas, before Attacus settled the Shadow down.

"This way." He exclaimed, before rushing off, followed closely by the trio of human, quarian and vorcha.

The group darted through the facility, dodging debris just like the Shadow had done, before they came to their shuttle, parked rather hastily in what the Shadow suspected to have been a crash. All aboard they scuttled, grateful that Cerberus hadn't managed to do any damage to their vehicle before they took to the skies in a mad dash to put themselves as much distance away from the facility before reinforcements arrived. Suddenly remembering her charge, the Shadow pulled out her detonator and soundly triggered it a final time, the faint noise of the explosion behind them as they shot further and further away.

"So did you ever end up using your sword?" Hans asked her suddenly as they rested on the seats of the shuttle wall.

"Sort of." She remarked, still bitter over her encounter with the Phantom…

* * *

**Yeah, that's kind of a clumsy finish but I couldn't be bothered to further elaborate.**

**Now, may I take this opportunity to thank you for such a warm reception. Please leave the usual comments and such, may seem trivial but I prize every one and take it as all the incentive to work on the next chapter.  
**

**And for those of you that are wondering who is next in line for time in the spotlight, I leave you with this incredibly vague and cryptic hint: It's not the Paladin, and the Fury is last.  
**

**Just try and figure that out, hehe.  
**


	6. Destroyer of Worlds

**As you can may be able tell from the lateness of this chapter posting, this is regrettably the least involved chapter I've written so far. It's stuck somewhere in the middle of hopefully better stages, and thus, feels uncomfortably repetitive. **

**So enjoy/endure... **

* * *

The T5-V Battlesuit was truly a cutting edge marvel of Alliance technology. The plating was as tough as the hulls of ships, even if it made manoeuvring about a necessary labour. It was certainly preferable to be concealed on the inside, and while it may not have been the most comfortable of suits, it could perfectly adapt to suit it occupant when entering more dangerous combat scenarios. At one decisive flick of a Omni-Tool switch, the entire suit buckled up into Devastator Mode, a fitting title, turning the occupant into the most durable contender on the battlefield, buffing shields up to a much more tolerable threshold, and allowing better synergy with whatever weapons the suit wielded, increasing ammunition count, accuracy and rate of fire, all at the same time.

And still, that just amounted to half of the staggering capabilities that the T5-V offered. In addition to the variables that Devastator Mode offered, there was still room within it's metal frame for the prototype automatic shoulder mounted Hawk Missile Launcher. In another swift switch flick, the launcher primed up, launching it's volley at regular intervals to seek out whatever unfortunate targets it could get a lock on. This allowed the user time to focus on maintaining fire with their weapons, while they could enjoy the occasional whizz of a missile dart out right by their metal helm. Yet even then, the T5-V could still somehow afford room in it's gauntlets for a few dozen fragmentation grenades, which the occupant could add whenever their constant string of bullets and missiles was not enough.

All in all, the Alliance scientists were more then proud with their cutting edge achievement, considering themselves more then fortunate to have built it just in time for the Reaper invasion. As for the "lucky" soul who received the honour of wearing such a metal marvel of magnificent magnitude, well...

The Destroyer had grown long accustomed to encasing himself within the T5-V. It had certainly proved the challenge at first, the image of the helm closing over his eyes was something he would take to the grave, and with all the variables the suit offered him, it proved hard trying to make them all synchronise together. Activating the missile launcher would cut his shields in two, while turning on Devastator Mode gave him the mobility of a krogan. But being the tough as nails N7 Operative that he was, he soon brought the metal beast to heel. The technical challenges he faced proved easy to overcome, the psychological challenges were a whole different matter.

The Destroyer did not mind tight spaces, he almost appreciated the extra security they could afford at times. But after going through the long periods of battle encased in that suit, communicating through a thick violent cloud of bullets and missiles eventually became something of a concern for him. For every drop of blood he spilled, his vision, composed of a red mechanical interface seemed to deepen a further red. He would feel disconnected, like his mind has become one with his machine, his skin replaced by cold metal, his voice a distorted growl, and the line between friend and foe would occasionally blur.

One instance in particular had caused him to worry over it immensely. It was the early stages of the war and he was fighting with his five former friends. After going through a relenting horde of what felt like the entire Reaper Armada, he had almost worn himself through, disposing of a marauder with ease, and turned to search for more ammo, when he noticed the Shadow being pounced upon by a husk. The sight of a teammate in danger was always concern for him, but finding himself with an empty gun, he decided to close in, noticing another husk creeping up on the Shadow, who had wrestled off her assailant. She did not notice the husk a mere inches from her, until the Destroyer had forcefully thrown her aside, and sliced it's head from it's shoulders with a swing of his Omni-Blade.

Content with his kill, the Destroyer turned to his teammate, only to find that she was now clutching a bent arm, in addition to feeling the effects of a bruise through her broken helm, and a twisted ankle, something the husk was hardly capable of inflicting.

The Destroyer spent a good long time after that trying to make amends with his much softer teammate, who only seemed content to stay within arms reach of him only when he had brought her the odd alcoholic substance or two, and commented on her skill in swordplay (much to the Slayer's irritation). Even still, while the Shadow may have looked upon the incident as nothing more than a slight miscalculation of strength on the Destroyer's part, and was willing to forgive him and move along, he, on the other hand faced difficulty in coming to terms with his brutal display of strength.

The Destroyer should have had a better grasp on how to determine friend from foe, but constantly being shut up in that tin can of a suit proved harder to adapt then he was comfortable with. At least with his comrades in arms, their suits were relatively easy to move about in, and they could always express themselves fairly easily. That was not the case with the T5-V, which was starting to feel more like a steel coffin the more time it spent shielding the Destroyer from harms way.

Whether the brand new trio of soldiers would find the T5-V as impressive as the Destroyer found it restricting remained to be seen. He had spent so much time adjusting to the familiar feel of the suit to spare any thought as to whom he sharing the battlefield with. If the sense of nervousness in his stomach was anything to go by, he probably was not looking forward to finding out any time soon. Despite belonging to the prestigious ranks of N7, all the Destroyer wanted to do was put on a good show, and hope there would not be any arguments to be had. He was not very good at arguments.

So when the shuttle he barely remembered stepping into finally descended, the rumbling it's small shape was making stopped, and the doors came to open, the Destroyer strolled out without so much as a second thought, eager to get the unpleasant introductions over and done with.

He knew exactly where to go, having a good knowledge of his surroundings from reading his dossier. Manoeuvring through the crowd, his hulking stature and marvel of a suit was drawing more then the odd glance, but he paid them no heed. What he did pay attention to was the hand that gripped the armour plating on his shoulder, quite forcefully but managing to make him pause and address the individual.

"You move awfully fast for such a big guy." A voice from behind a helmet remarked to the Destroyer, who was not quite sure of how to reply.

"Excuse me." He proclaimed in his usual mechanical drill.

"Err, sorry I guess." The armoured individual uttered back a little less confidently. "You must be the man I am looking for."

"That depends." The Destroyer replied with confidence. "You are?"

"Oh right." The soldier said before clearing his throat. "I'm Ross."

"Ross?" The Destroyer repeated. "That your first or last name?"

"I have no idea." Ross replied. "I'm still getting over the err, treatment."

"Treatment?" The Destroyer parroted back yet again.

"Yes, umm, didn't anyone tell you?" Ross asked cautiously. "I'm... ex-Cerberus."

The Destroyer backed up a good distance, observing Ross with deep suspicion beneath his helm.

"Ex-Cerberus?" He repeated his words a third time. "How exactly does that happen?"

"It wasn't easy." Ross began gravely. "I know you've got every right to be suspicious, but could we hold off on any arguments until we've met the rest of the squad."

The Destroyer was hesitant to reply at first, before he decided to keep a lid on the growing concerns starting to plague his mind. "Fine by me."

"Appreciate that sir. You were going the wrong way by the way." Ross responded with some cheek.

"Was I?" The Destroyer remarked with disbelief.

"Yeah, you know for an N7 Operative, you guys are sure kept in the dark a lot." Ross said, before setting off gesturing for him to follow.

The Destroyer did so, wondering what other surprises his superiors had decided to withhold from him. Ross did not lead him too far, before they came upon a small enclosure, devoid of any fellow soldiers.

"Huh, that's odd." Ross remarked. "She said she'd stay here."

"Up here, ladies!" A voice exclaimed, alerting the two of them to gaze up to the catwalks above them, where another armoured individual was sitting on the railing in a rather careless manner.

"Get down from there, would you?" Ross yelled back with impatience.

"Glad to." The figure barked down to the pair, before leaping off, landing softly on her two feet thanks to a cushion of biotic energy surrounding her.

"Err, this is..." Ross began, but he was shot down quickly by the feisty individual.

"I can introduce myself, Cerby." She began. "Georgina McTarge, N6."

The newly christened Georgina sparingly punched the chest plate of the Destroyer's battlesuit, which barely registered through to him as her fist was rebounded by the strong metal, causing her to wince.

"Frank Hartigan, N7." The Destroyer replied with a good hint of pride that matched her own.

The mention of N7 and the slight bruising the chest plate gave her must have caused some kind of reaction in Georgina, for she lost her boastful manner and stance.

"N7. Well shoot." She said, but worked quickly regain her demeanour of self esteem. "Whatever, bet you can't do this."

She shrouded a fist in a biotic glow and shot out one orb that flew around the trio, darting to and fro guided by her wavering hand.

"Bet you can't do this." The Destroyer responded.

He flipped up his Omni-Tool, priming the missile launcher on his shoulder before shooting out a missile that darted around the room in a similar manner to the biotic orb, before exploding in a cloud that shocked the pair in front of the proud Destroyer.

"Well..." Georgina stuttered. "... Whatever."

"Pleasure to meet you, N6." The Destroyer remarked, putting a special hint of emphasis on the last word.

"Well at least I'm not Cerberus." Georgina affirmed herself, trying to sounding like she was trying to salvage her wounded ego.

"Dammit Georgina..." Ross exclaimed with the air of familiarity.

The two then launched into an argument that looked to the Destroyer like something they had been through more than once. They threw words at each other with such contempt the Destroyer started to feel almost embarrassed in their presence.

"I went through a thorough psyche exam. No indoctrination, we've been over this!" The former Cerberus operative pleaded his defence.

"They have ways." The boisterous marine stated defiantly.

"Argh! Just tell me what it's gonna take?" Ross asked irritated. "What's it gonna take to earn sons trust around here?!"

"How about defending against a Cerberus raid." The Destroyer said casually, looking up.

"Wha..." Ross replied confused, but his concerns were answered when the catwalk above them was suddenly engulfed by a explosion and gave way, causing the trio of humans to run for cover.

Ross and Georgina, being encased within relatively manoeuvrable armour, managed to dart out of the way, just barely escaping as the structure descended to the ground. For the T5-V however, it was not so easy for such a hulking tin can to move about in such a spontaneous scenario, the Destroyer seeing the stone before it fully surrounded him and he found himself completely buried, the immense claustrophobic settling in before his world became dark.

* * *

_"So." The Destroyer addressed the trio of Demolisher, Slayer and Fury sitting around a table, decked out in his new battlesuit. "What do you think?"_

_The Demolisher got up at once, strolling over to the Destroyer to get a closer look. She was always the technically inclined member of the band, and found her companions metal marvel nothing short of enthralling. _

_"Dammit, I'm jealous man." She remarked, carefully prodding the miniature missile launcher on his shoulder. _

_The Destroyer felt comforted by the fact that she felt that way. The Demolisher herself was more than welcome to try it out for herself, if she possessed the required physique to handle it's capabilities, which she did not. _

_"Looks a little restricting." The Slayer remarked casually._

_"That's one way of putting it." The Destroyer replied, shooing the Demolisher off him, for her constant prodding was starting to look compromising._

_"I have to get me one of these." She stated eagerly._

_"I'll get you one for Christmas, then." The Destroyer responded brazenly._

_"Yeah, yeah." The Demolisher said. "Well, I gotta go. You coming Slayer?"_

_"Coming?" He replied confused. "For what?"_

_"You know." The Demolisher said trying to appear discreet. "That thing?"_

_She gave a sideways glance to the Fury, quickly diverting her eyes before she noticed._

_"Oh!" The Slayer exclaimed. "Yeah, that thing. Yeah, see you guys later."_

_He got up and followed the Demolisher out of the room, at a rather awkward pace, leaving the Destroyer alone with the Fury. _

_"What was that about?" The Destroyer asked of his teammate in confusion. _

_"No idea." She spoke for the first time, feigning ignorance. _

_The Destroyer quickly dismissed whatever the Slayer or Demolisher were getting up to without him. Though he appreciated their brief observations on his new armour, he was much more interested in hearing what the Fury had to say about the T5-V._

_"So." He said, settling himself down in the Slayer's former seat. "What do you think about this?"_

_"Me?" The Fury replied in disbelief. "You want to hear my thoughts on that thing."_

_"Yes, I think that's what I'm trying to say." He remarked, uncertain as to why she seemed so aversive._

_The Fury sighed. "Fine, if it would make you happy." _

_She took a good long look at the T5-V. The Destroyer sat patiently, feeling quite amused and almost intimidated as she observed him through her blue eyes, not bothering to mover her head too much, opting instead to simply let her eyes do all the work. Eventually, she let out a small snigger of approval, having reached some kind of consensus._

_"Alright." The Fury announced, to the Destroyer's somewhat disappointment._

_"Alright!" He parroted back. "Come on, give me something a little thorough."_

_"Well." The Fury stuttered. "What exactly are you looking for?"_

_"You know." He said. "Does it look... strong?"_

_"Strong?" She repeated._

_"Yeah. Like, durable." The Destroyer did his best to explain._

_"I was thinking." The Fury said. "More along the lines of intimidating."_

_"Ha!" He exclaimed in a short laugh. "You're one to talk, what with that mask and those cartoonish looking eyes."_

_"Hey!" The Fury barked back, obviously offended. "I appreciate the fact that, out of six of us, I'm the only one who wears something resembling a face. And I like my eyes."_

_"Yeah, glowing eyes." He said, still in his disbelieving state. "And I was referring to the eyes on your mask, not your actual eyes."_

_"What." She said, sounding a little less offended and more hurt now. "Don't you like my eyes?"_

_The Fury fluttered her eyelashes, gazing into the visor of the T5-V with an affectionate look._

_"Oh." The Destroyer said, now surprisingly alarmed. "Well, I don't know, err... haven't really considered that yet, hehe."_

_"Come on." She said. "Do I have nice eyes?"_

_The Fury maintained her gaze now. The Destroyer observed her through his helmet and found himself suddenly avoiding her glance, finding it hard to formulate a reply._

_"Well I, umm." He stuttered. "I don't really know. Yeah I guess." _

_"Honestly?" The Fury said asked, eagerly._

_"Well I guess, err." The Destroyer stumbled in his helm to reply. "I mean, their fine... enough."_

_"I see." She replied, seemingly contend with his observation. "And um, how about my hair. Is it good?"_

_She raised a hand to show off one of the yellow braids on her prim arrangement of hair atop her head. _

_"Well, I..." The Destroyer said, suddenly noticing how hot it had become in his suit. "I... guess it's good hair, yeah."_

_"Good, good." She replied, looking immensely satisfied. "And um, how about my lips."_

_"Oh god Fury..." The Destroyer exclaimed, breathing heavily and casting his gaze to the floor._

_"Come on." The Fury asked eagerly. "I'd like to hear what you think?"_

_The Destroyer managed to bring his helmet to meet the Fury again. He could the temperature within his helmet becoming almost unbearable._

_"You look pretty hot in that thing." The Fury observed._

_"Yeah... it is pretty hot." He noted breathlessly._

_"Let me." She said, and before he could stop her, she had brought both her hands to her helmet, fiddling with the triggers only for a minute before it came off his head._

_The Destroyer felt gratifying to finally feel the light and breeze allow his free face to retain a reasonable temperature._

_"There, that's better." The Fury remarked. "Now... do I have nice lips?"_

_"Well..." The Destroyer remarked calmly. "Yeah I'd say. They look like pretty... good lips to me."_

_"Mmm." She cooed, before she slowly moved her head towards the Destroyer's._

_The small, cool head of the Fury met the hot Destroyer, their foreheads touching. _

_"So..." She asked. "Would you like to hear what I think of your eyes?"_

_He remained silent, simply holding his head in that position as if it was all he was capable of._

_"Destroyer?" The Fury asked. _

_The Destroyer remained silent._

_"Destroyer..." She uttered breathlessly. "Frank..."_

"DAMMIT, WHAT KIND OF N7 ARE YOU IF YOU CAN'T RECOVER FROM A KNOCK ON THE HEAD!"

The first thing the Destroyer heard was a sudden ringing in his ears, combined with an alarming bustle of activity as rounds whirled around him. The first thing he felt was the sudden relief of fresh air as he realised his helmet had been torn off his head, the following feel was a strong weight upon his chest and legs. The first thing he saw was the blurry outline of the armoured Georgina, desperately trying to dig the rest of his body out of the rubble.

The Destroyer then became aware of their surroundings, a dense cluster of debris before three shapes suddenly descended from above. He could make out their humanoid armoured forms, but was alarmed to find that the armour that adorned them look vaguely familiar to the armour Ross had worn, before the sight of weapons in their hands drew his gaze. Georgina had her back to the trio of assailants, who were just about to open fire on them before the Destroyer forcefully freed his right gauntlet, aimed it at them, Omni-Tool glowing, and let loose a cascade of grenades that collided upon them, instantly shredding them in a flurry of furious fragmentation.

Georgina turned to face her would be assailant, finding the sight of three badly ruined corpses almost comforting, before she turned back to the Destroyer, who wasted no time in forcefully ejecting himself from the rubble, shaking the bruises off and quickly finding his discarded helmet and sealing it over his head once again.

"How long have I been out?" He asked, quickly addressing the systems of the T5-V to assess any damage.

"About… ten minutes." Georgina replied, quite out of breath.

"And Ross?" He continued.

"I don't know." She said worried.

"Well." The Destroyer began. "Hop to it, there's bad guys to kill."

And with that, he grabbed the nearest rifle, tuned the T5-V's systems into Destroyer Mode, and rushed off, eager to join the fight, Georgina in tow.

The first distinct sight they came across was a fierce battle, Alliance on one side, Cerberus on the other, across a wide open maze of cover. The Destroyer was in no such mode to play this tedious tug of war and instead simply waltzed right into the middle of pitched conflict and aimed at what exposed Cerberus he could find. The T5-V was not meant for agility and speed, and with Devastator Mode applied, the Destroyer manoeuvred like a snail. But he was a tough snail, with decent durability and deadly accuracy to boot, so while he took more than a beating, he was able to counteract it and managed to take out enough of the Cerberus garrison to push them back.

They did not fight like the Reapers that was all too obvious. There were no husks making reckless suicide charges and cannibals abandoning battle to feast upon a fallen foe. They were much more coordinated then that, utilising cover and a sense of tactics but falling to the might of the Destroyer all the same. It was not until he had reached the Cerberus position that he actually encountered something of a resistance. One trooper dropped a grenade that dispensed a cloud of smoke that fell across their ranks, obscuring them to the Destroyer, who then laid eyes upon a group of figures slowly marching through the fog, big shields completely blocking their frame, save for the hands and feet. The Destroyer opened fire on the shield, but it did little to impair their advance, and was now forced to take cover himself to wait for his shields to recover.

Well, this was unknown. The Destroyer, being of N7 stock could easily adjust to face any threat he encountered, something as trivial as a shield would not be the end of him. So, ducking out of cover, he observed the incoming Cerberus tanks, and found a small exposed slot on their shields, all the incentive he needed to try another assault. Aiming his rifle with precision accuracy, the Destroyer fired right through the exposed aperture, taking one out with ease, and swiftly moving onto the rest, who soon fell in no time. Now the Destroyer got back up to attend to the shield less troopers up ahead, but before he could open fire, the figure of Georgina had manifested within their midst in a biotic charge and sent them flying. She was not done yet however, and to the Destroyer's pleasant surprise, launched herself into the air and slammed the ground with a biotic fist, pulverising the Cerberus squad for the second and last time.

"Wonderful." The Destroyer groaned under his breath.

"Come on, ladies!" Georgina exclaimed behind her with conceited glee and immediately took off, not wanting to give Cerberus a break, the Destroyer now following in her wake.

Georgina practically frolicked through the base, the adrenal rush her biotic display had given her a very strange sensation that could only be sufficed by further indulging her biotics. The Destroyer had trouble attempting to keep up with her as she darted to and fro, until he observed her jump into an opening, take one look, and immediately jump back, a hail of bullets following in her wake.

"God, I hate those things." She yelled in frustration, taking cover.

The Destroyer briefly wondered into the clearing, before he felt the same cascade of bullets shoot into him, depleting his shields at an alarming rate. His gargantuan form just barely managed to retreat to cover, managing to get a peek at his assailant, a mechanical turret device on three legs, being attended to by a Cerberus trooper wielding an Omni-Tool.

"I wish our turrets did that." He observed. "Still, won't be a problem."

"Just get them out of the way, please!" Georgina barked at him, realising painfully how ill equipped she was at handling the Cerberus contraption.

The Destroyer peeked out of cover, reloading his rifle in a flash before taking aim at the turret. But before he opened fire, he suddenly observed the device rotate its barrel, turning it on it's Cerberus master, and to the alarm of all, suddenly filled his armour with its volley of fire. Now disorientated, the few Cerberus units left quickly attended to the threat now within their own midst, but only managed to take out the rogue turret when it had disposed of another two, leaving one lone wounded soldier left, who did not last against the combined efforts of the Destroyer and Georgina.

"I'm glad our turrets don't do that." The Destroyer observed with cheek.

"That would be me." An unknown voice called out to the pair of them.

Out of the scenery of rubble shimmered a figure emerging out of a cloak. The Destroyer found himself towering over the average figure of a quarian, observing the scene that she had created.

"Freedor'Sefker vas Neema, at your service." The quarian proclaimed courteously, giving a bow. "You must be those N- something or other marines I was told about. Also something about an err, Cerberus raid."

"Yes we've noticed that." The Destroyer remarked casually.

"Well, now that I'm here…" The quarian known as Freedor began, but her trail of speech was drawn by the towering figure of an Atlas thundering to the ground in a clash, putting a halt to their pleasantries.

"Bring it!" Georgina cried out, and instantly slammed into the gaint intruder in a charge, causing it to stagger slightly, before she started dancing around it, trying to wear it down with her shockwaves.

The Cerberus machine however, was not one for playing her games, and grabbed her with one giant metal claw, holding her aloft and rendering her defenceless. The Destroyer, having experience with banshees in the past, knew exactly where this was going and wasted no time in flipping his missile launcher on, closing the gap and firing his gauntlets of grenades in the giant's hull, hoping it would let go.

With some luck, the Atlas did not get a chance to crush Georgina within its grasp, and dropped her promptly. Yet now, the Destroyer found himself face to face with the Atlas, it's pilot now furious, and wasted no time in attempting to divert its attention to the N7 Operative. The Destroyer darted for cover, a missile flying in his wake, before he opened fire on the Atlas from the relatively safe position.

The giant contraption soon fell to the combined efforts of the three, though the Destroyer could not discern what role his new quarian teammate had played in its destruction, simply glad that it was over and he could allow himself a brief respite. Georgina, on the other hand, was in no such mood, and as soon as the Atlas came down, sprinted off further into the base.

"Such… fury." Freedor exclaimed, shimmering out of before giving chase.

The Destroyer recovered, pausing only slightly in response to the last word she had uttered, his battlesuit lumbering on in the wake of his much faster teammates.

Eventually, after darting through the burning base, the Destroyer came upon a confusing sight. On one far side, another platoon of Cerberus soldiers, in addition to another Atlas were advancing upon a small wreck of debris, behind which crouched Georgina who was tending to the newly discovered Ross, who appeared to have suffered quite the beating in his solo trek. The Destroyer observed the mass of Cerberus descending upon them, and promptly groaned within in helm, having had the stuffing worn out of him in his tumble with the Atlas. Now there was another Atlas, in addition to several troopers, select members of which were hunched behind more shields. It would not be long before they saw him, so reloading his rifle, the Destroyer was about to engage them when, to his utter surprise, a missile shot out at the platoon, hitting the Atlas, and promptly annihilating the entire squadron in one fell swoop.

The Destroyer stood speechless in response to the devastation he took no part in bringing out, before his quarian teammate manifested alongside him, brandishing a missile launcher in her hands.

"What? Didn't you get one?" Freedor asked innocently…

* * *

**So sorry, there was so much more I could have said here, but I just ran completely out of steam, an I just could not be bothered.**

**On the bright side, I've a very good idea for the next chapter, something involving very different perspectives and hopefully something else that's really clever and will not feel too repetitive.**

**But until then, bye for now...  
**


	7. The Brothers Turian

**After that last... lacking chapter, I just had to bounce back with something _really _good. And I think I might just have done that here. I present to you the longest chapter I have ever written, it's got a load of dialogue, very descriptive on the action, and goes into great detail about the characters. **

**So, I mean it this time. Enjoy  
**

* * *

Benning. Formerly, this agriculturally inclined world served as the prime resource supply to what was formerly known as Arcturus Station. This almost obsolete world was rendered with a very new function when the Reapers descended swiftly and surely upon the Alliance's key military stronghold within the galaxy. Now, with it's relay access cut off, Benning soon saw occupation by Reapers and, as of late, Cerberus. This surely would have seemed the end of Alliance activities within this section of space but, humanity being as stubborn as it is, a strong campaign has been organised to take back the system. It will begin with Benning.

Stationed just outside the mass relay that would lead into the Arcturus Stream was an immense warship of the Alliance, one of the few big ones left relatively intact. While there has been some inaction in setting up a full scale invasion to retake the system, a small team comprising of four individuals knows not the restrictions of a full scale fleet. Thus, all it takes is one decent shuttle with some satisfactory stealth systems to make the trek down upon the small planet of Benning. Then, do they contest with whatever force may occupy their treasured planet, be it the ravenous Reapers or the cancerous Cerberus.

The first member of the quartet of soldiers to arrive in the warship had just left a place they would have deeply preferred to remain behind on. Palaven, the turian homeworld, had not enjoyed one moment of respite since the Reapers had designated one of the sturdiest targets. The turians had not taken it gently, and had fought the Reapers with tooth and nail (or talon and claw), and for this particular turian, it broke his heart to have to leave fighting for his homeworld, jumping into a shuttle and darting halfway across the galaxy, to find himself on an alien ship awaiting cooperation with more aliens.

For Captain Tarkin of the 26th Armiger Legion, he was in something of an optimistic mood. In truth, he wanted to be right back at his birthright, fighting the Reapers till his dying breath. But if his brothers could find it in their hearts to fight the Reapers in this different way, then he supposed he could too. So he patiently marched formally to the designated area where he would be meeting his first teammate, and patiently waited. And waited some more...

It gave him time to ponder his position here. As a member of the coveted Armiger Legion, there was the odd perk associated with such an illustrious rank. The most prestigious was the high quality armour, wrought by Palaven's finest for the finer. Fastened into the armour was propulsion packs, that allowed the otherwise slow turian to launch himself halfway across the battlefield in a flash. And, unlike his brothers, Tarkin could up the ante, for he belonged to class of the Turian Ghost, which meant that he could not only launch himself across the battlefield in a flash, but he could do it... whilst invisible.

But tactical cloaks and propulsion are all very nice, but it's the fleshy organic underneath all that metal that brings such technological wizardry to proper fruition. Tarkin had utilised his skills to their fullest in the battle for Palaven, and he was joined by his brothers, also of the Armiger Legion, but with entirely different skills and talents of their own. It had proven quite the pitched battle, but no side refused to back down. The turians did no such thing as collapsing in the heat of battle, and the Reapers simply brought up a hundred more troops for every ten they lost.

Eventually, it was decided that the Armiger Legion, those blood brothers who had been on the front lines giving it their all, be tactically withdrawn. Tarkin, being the captain, did protest as any decent turian would, but ultimately, it was not his call to make, and so he begrudgingly assigned himself to the new position forced upon him.

"Tarkin, you alright?" His brother known as Attacus asked with deep concern.

"Yes... no." Tarkin replied, quietly for a militant turian such as himself.

"I know." Attacus replied. "It's hard, leaving it, so we can save it."

"Save it?" Tarkin repeated in disbelief. "Were you awake in that last fight? Does it look like it's in any position to be saved?"

Attacus was initially silent, struggling to maintain his upbeat attitude, but eventually he found an appropriate answer.

"Look at it this way." He began. "Batarians, completely gone straight out of the gate. Humans, just barely able to hold onto Sol before it's won. Salarians, having to stay on the outskirts just to avoid the Reapers line of fire. Asari, using hit and run tactics, but the moment they hit Thessia, it's gonna be all hands on deck. And Turians. They can't even take one damn moon let alone the homeworld."

Attacus finished his speech with an air of pride. Tarkin could not help but feel slightly comforted in hearing his words, even if there was the nagging feeling that the Reapers probably would have gone easy on the turians if they exhibited the same combat prowess as their fellow council races. It boiled his blood that the Asari could still claim their homeworld as their own. The most influential of the races and the Reapers were going easy on them. Well, their time would come soon.

"You heard from Tyderius yet?" Tarkin asked his brother in arms and blood.

"Not yet." Attacus replied. "Hoping to get a chance before we split up. You know what new friends they're pairing you up with?"

"Not yet." Tarkin replied.

"I've got a quarian and a vorcha." Attacus said, halfway between gratitude and resentment.

"Well lucky you." Tarkin said, surpassing a light chuckle.

"And an N7." Attacus was suddenly reminded.

"Yeah, lucky you." Tarkin repeated.

"Don't worry." Attacus patted his brother on the back. "Maybe you'll get an N7 too. Someone who can challenge your authority."

"Lucky me." Captain Tarkin repeated...

* * *

The Turian Ghost's brief reminiscence was brought to a swift halt as the shuttle that he was awaiting soon docked within the warship. Armed with the knowledge of who was inside, Tarkin stood at attention, and patiently awaited the vehicle's landing.

The craft promptly descended to the hangar, its doors subsequently opening revealing the N7 Operative for the Armiger soldier to see.

Even through the emotionless armour, Tarkin could tell that his presence was barely registered by the operative, who hopped off the shuttle in an instant before he was approached by the turian.

"Captain Tarkin, 26th Armiger Legion. You must be the Paladin." Tarkin introduced himself as formally and as amicably as possible.

"Yep." The Paladin responded as indifferent as his armour suggested.

"Right." Tarkin said gently. "Well…"

The Paladin did not wait for a reply, instead he chose to stroll off into the gathering, surprising Tarkin with his foreknowledge of the situation.

"Have you been briefed?" Tarkin asked, his ironclad turian form struggling slightly to keep up with the manoeuvrable human.

"Of course." The Paladin replied.

"Like properly briefed?" Tarkin asked. "Because there was one or two things missing in my report."

"Oh." The Paladin said, his tone elevating ever so slightly. "Such as?"

"Well." Tarkin began. "I know about you, I know what we're doing here, and I know that this is supposed to be a four piece team."

"Your point being?" The Paladin asked, not seeing where the turian was coming from.

"Well, maybe there was a mix-up, something like a withdrawal of information." Tarkin explained. "But for some reason, I only have the identities of three of our team. You, me, and the krogan. But not the last guy."

"Makes sense." The Paladin mused to himself.

"Why exactly." Tarkin pressed him further, still confused. "Who have we got exactly? I heard that the volus were stepping up but, if we've got a volus, why would they not tell me that?"

"No." The Paladin said. "Not a volus."

"Then who?" Tarkin asked eagerly.

"Oh you'll find out." The Paladin replied, with a hint of amusement in the turian's obliviousness. "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

"Surprise." Tarkin was not one for indulging in the Paladin's delight. "I'd like to be on the safe side. If we've getting a surprise Reaper agent, that's something I'd like to have prior knowledge about."

"Are all you turians so slow to trust?" The Paladin asked rhetorically. "Calm yourself. You'll see what I mean. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to see my new comrade, get my bearings. Save your questions for then, would you kindly?"

Tarkin would have turned their conversation into a proper argument, going at great lengths to explain how, as a member of the Armiger Legion, he was on an equal authority as the N7 Operative. But he decided to bottle his inner thoughts for now, content with pondering why his superiors had decided to withhold such intelligence from him. Was it because he would react badly, derail the mission? Tarkin did not want to know, but suspected that, due to him being under a disproportionate amount of pressure, that could have been the answer.

Eventually, the two of them came to, not a hangar similar to the one they had left, but rather a small control room, bare save for two things. One, the large workbench with an equally large assortment of weapons scattered about it, and two, the krogan standing just beside it, with his back to the pair. The Paladin made the introductions, Tarkin shrinking somewhat, considering he was a turian meeting a krogan for the first time.

"Urdnot Ark?" He addressed.

The krogan turned rotated on the spot in response. First, he noted the human, then his eyes shifted to the turian, and at that instance he let out a groan.

"Well at least you're not a salarian," He spoke in his guttural voice.

"Captain Tarkin, 26th Armiger Legion." Tarkin did his best to formulate a polite but imposing introduction.

"Oo, fancy." The krogan known as Ark replied in mock awe. "And here I am, standing in front of an Armiger and an N7. Where's my autograph book when I need it?"

"Who uses books anymore?" The Paladin casually dismissed the krogan's sarcastic claim and proceeding to the workbench, activating his Omni-Tool and examining it, leaving Tarkin face to face with the krogan, whose disposition towards him he had yet to discern.

"So…" He began, losing his previous formality almost instantly.

Ark simply observed him, a faint smile forming across his wide face. Inside Tarkin's helmet, it was beginning to feel quite humid, and the turian starting to subconsciously fidget with his hands, uncertain of how best to approach this. The krogan suddenly went into a battle pose, raising his gauntlets and pushing the armoured turian about. Tarkin was alarmed at first, but his tone soon changed when Ark let out a hearty laugh.

"Still got it." The krogan mused. "Wish you knew how to make someone jump like that."

"Yeah." Tarkin said nervously. "So… no hard feelings, then?"

"Oh please." Ark declared. "I've taken it all out on marauders anyway. I don't have the time to be mad at some Armi-whatever turian for some genophage that might soon be fixed anyway."

"What?" Tarkin exclaimed, mildly surprised.

"Oh." Ark faltered. "Guess I shouldn't have said that. Never mind, don't you worry your little turian head about that."

The krogan then proceeded to pet the top of Tarkin's helmet, who was finding it all too patronising, in addition to a little bruising, considering it was a krogan doing it.

Ark's playful bantering with his turian teammate was brought to a swift halt when the Paladin suddenly lit up his Omni-Tool, flexing his arm to wield the strong shield that was now resonating from the device. The krogan's attention was immediately turned to the radiant device, and subsequently let out a slight groan when the Paladin retracted his Omni-Shield.

"How in the…" Ark began.

"Just a little perk for someone of my talents." The Paladin remarked dismissively of just how much of an impression he had made on Ark.

"Wait." The krogan said. "I can do something similar."

He drew his Omni-Tool, examining it for a brief moment, and in an instant, his whole form was shrouded in an orange holographic layer of armour, similar to the Paladin's shield.

"Tech armour." He stated. "Fancy, but hardly something worthy for an N7 such as myself."

"Well let's who's left standing on the field then." Ark cried back in defence.

"Looking forward to it." The Paladin say in a tone that did not match the words.

The krogan probably would have gone on bickering, but at that moment, the Paladin's radio inside his helmet started beeping, signs of an incoming call. Turning away from the krogan and turian, he went into conversation, talking at a discreet tone like he did not want them to hear.

"Okay, we'll be right there." He said, before turning back to the duo, who were now eager to hear of this new development. "Right you two, ready to meet the last of the team?"

"Oh am I!" Ark eagerly exclaimed, bashing his gauntlets together.

"Right this way." The Paladin remarked, leading the duo out of the room and out through several corridors.

Soon enough, they came to another small room where the Paladin requested of his comrades to sit patiently, while he went on ahead. Tarkin did as instructed, a strange feel of anticipation as well as foreboding upon him. He did not have to wait there long with his restless thoughts, before the Paladin returned, and in his wake was the fourth member of their team, for all to see….

The Paladin was right. It certainly was a shock, but considering everything there simply was no way Tarkin or Ark could have predicted anything close to this. Out of the various races in the galaxy, and they had certainly see a lot, the thought that maybe, they would be fighting alongside this particular select individual somehow seemed to elude their method of thinking. Tarkin did not know how to properly react at first, sure it had induced a state of surprise all about him, but now that he had time to register his new comrade's appearance, it suddenly struck him that, the turians had absolutely no select grievances against… the Geth, in particular. That thought alone seemed enough for Tarkin to get over his initial shock and instead wait patiently to see where this scenario would lead.

Ark, on the other hand…

"You got exactly two seconds to explain what this thing is doing here before I pull its light bulb head off." He exclaimed in fury, standing tall and menacing over the Paladin and the synthetic.

The Paladin made the notion to reply, but the geth rattled out a reply first, in a metallic monotone voice.

"We are sorry for any initial negative impressions we have made."

Ark stopped in his rage, and Tarkin too could understand. To hear a geth talk, in relative coherent speech that almost sounded apologetic was certainly a first.

"It talks?" The krogan asked in bewilderment, and Tarkin could detect his fury subside for confusion ever so slightly.

"Yes. Yes it does. Surprised?" The Paladin clarified and asked rhetorically.

"Superstition is an understandable reaction in organics." The geth went again. "We do not know how to appropriately react."

Ark simply stood, somehow struck speechless by the geth's continued proficiency with words.

"Why don't I let… him explain?" The Paladin suggested, turning to the geth.

"That would be appropriate." The geth replied in its mechanical drone quietly.

The Paladin took a seat, joined at a slower pace by the still speechless krogan, whilst Tarkin leant forward, eager to hear the synthetic out.

The geth observed the trio through its glowing singular eye. The three fingered hands started to fidget about in a manner of nervousness that looked very familiar to Tarkin. The geth then lowered its eye to the floor, as if in a strange lack of confidence.

"Is something wrong?" The Paladin asked it.

The geth raised its eye to meet him. "We do not know where to begin."

"How about from the beginning?" Tarkin suggested.

"Processing: Correct, we can initiate." The geth said. "Three hundred years ago…"

"Not that beginning." The Paladin quickly interjected, already familiar with the geth's history. "I think he meant from your beginning."

"Our beginning?" The geth asked. "We do not understand."

Tarkin groaned. "Just… explain… what the geth did leading up to the Reapers, and how you came to be here… is that understandable?"

"Processing:" The geth said. "Yes, we have found a suitable initiation point and can proceed."

"Lovely." The Paladin remarked dryly.

The geth placed its hands behind its back to begin its address. "Approximately six months prior to the Old Machine's return…"

"Old Machines?" Tarkin asked.

"I assume he means Reapers." The Paladin remarked dryly. "You do mean Reapers, don't you?"

The geth eyed him quizzically. …Yes. If it promotes further cooperation we will change our designation to Reapers."

"Probably for the best." The Paladin replied. "Now… you were saying?"

The geth resumed his address. "When the geth consensus learned that the… Reapers' return was imminent, we immediately began preparing for war. While the majority of our programs coordinated a defence around our home planets, select platforms were specially commissioned to operate outside the Perseus Veil to preform acts of reconnaissance amongst organic species. This platform was amongst those sent out."

"This platform?" Tarkin repeated slowly. "You mean… you… right?"

The geth simply motioned its hand over its body. "This… platform was sent out on reconnaissance. We surveyed, listened, and awaited the inevitable. When the time came for the Reapers to invade, we made the return journey to re-join our consensus. But... that did not happen."

"What happened?" Tarkin said eagerly.

"We were…" The geth stuttered in its metallic voice.

"Go on." The Paladin said impatiently.

"We… were…" The geth continued its inconsistent speech.

The trio of human, turian and krogan all observed the synthetic with silent intent. They were all eager to hear of its tale, finding the setup intriguing enough, but none could understand why the geth seemed so averse all of a sudden. Faltering and a loose trail of thought was a very… organic notion. Hardly something this machine seemed capable of.

"We were… disconnected." The geth managed to elaborate at last.

"Disconnected?" Tarkin replied. "How exactly."

"Disconnected as in." The Paladin said. "Cut out from the main network of other geth."

His turian and krogan comrades turned their gaze from the geth to analyse him, finding his level of knowledge about the geth just as peculiar as the actual geth.

"What?" He said defensively. "So what I know one or two things about the geth. That's right isn't it?"

The geth eyed him through its singular light. "To an extent. It is difficult to put into organic terms, but yes… this platform was severed from all nearby geth servers."

"And umm…" Tarkin said, struggling to understand. "What exactly were the consequences of you… being disconnected from a geth server?"

"The Old… Reapers." The geth continued. "Ambushed us and prevented our return to the geth consensus. This platform would have likely perished had it not been for an Alliance squad that engaged the Reapers. Upon their discovery of our higher intellect than all previous geth encounters, it was decided that this platform be put to all Alliance operations against the Reapers… for now."

"That's awfully generous I'd say." The Paladin commented. "You must have been rescued by some Samaritans."

"There were some… conflictions at first." The geth explained. "But we have agreed to cooperate with organics until further consensus can be achieved."

"And when will "further consensus" be achieved?" The Paladin asked forebodingly.

"When we join the geth again." The synthetic explained.

The Paladin gave a short laugh of disapproval, and suddenly stood up from his seat in a slightly threatening bound. "Oh, so you're on our side until the geth make their presence in this war. Then you'll just run off and join them, is that right?"

"No…" The geth expressed quite forcefully, yet also with a hint of panic. "We are against the Old err, Reapers."

The geth's eye darted to the floor, while its form hunched back slightly, finding the Paladin almost intimidating. The human looked forward in his helm, his expression hidden from all but it was one of heightened suspicion.

"Okay." Tarkin said, in an attempt to prevent the Paladin from causing the synthetic further distress. "So you're on our side. But what I do not understand is how, well, how can you still, you know… talk like that. Aren't isolated geth supposed to have barely any intelligence."

"Not us." The geth explained, almost glad to be addressing someone other than Paladin. "This is a specialised platform containing one thousand and two independent geth programs. Though our intellect is higher when joined in consensus with other geth, we are… alone, for now. This will not affect our performances in combat scenarios."

"We'll just see about that." The Paladin remarked. "But… seeing as how we're stuck with you for now, we might as well make the most out of it. So, what's your name, geth?"

"Name?" The geth replied. "No, no name. Only geth."

"Oh come on." The Paladin snapped with impatience. "We can't call you geth, that's going to get a little confusing."

The geth raised a hand to its eye, as if deep in thought. "There is one suggestion."

"Let's hear it." The Paladin requested.

"We believe it may reflect our current situation." The geth mused.

"Yes yes, what is it?" The Paladin demanded irritated.

"Superintendent." The geth proclaimed.

The Paladin raised an eye beneath his helm, bemused by that particular choice.

"And how exactly does that reflect your little plight?" He inquired.

"...Well." The geth explained. "This platform bears similarities to a body or organisation of education. The programs represent the varying standards of authority. Our exterior is a shell akin to a building, whilst our voice is that which administers the entities. We... supervise them."

The geth was met with initial silence as the trio tried to discern it's peculiar reasoning.

"Are we comprehensible?" It asked.

"Maybe, sort of... whatever." The Paladin remarked. "As long as you've got a name, it shouldn't matter. So... Superintendent. Would you like us to go over the briefing?"

"We would like that." The newly christened Superintendent replied.

"Good." The Paladin replied, before setting himself back down in his seat. "Tarkin, would you...?"

"Err?" The turian stuttered sharply.

"Sorry, but I don't feel like talking any more." The Paladin commented.

"Right." Tarkin responded, getting to his feet, finding it good to have authority again.

He strolled over to where the Superintendent was standing, not seeming to have properly acknowledged that he was no longer the centre of attention.

"Ahem. Could you." Tarkin said, urging the geth to move aside.

The synthetic looked at his turian comrade, then to his human and krogan, noticing that they were sitting awaiting for the turian to begin. As if analysing the contrasting positions in his metal head, the Superintendent slowly obeyed the logical reasoning of the situation, and paced mechanically over to Tarkin's former seat, settling in with some further elaboration, as if it was the first seat he had ever seen (which it probably was).

"Ahem." Tarkin cleared his throat again. "So... as I assume you all know, we're headed to Benning. Now, as far as I know, there's a big invasion planning to properly take it back but for now... a small team is going to be covertly dropped in, hitting where they're the weakest and breaking off before they can properly counteract. And that small team is us."

"No." The Paladin remarked, with obvious sarcasm to all.

"We were under the assumption you were familiar with this designation bestowed upon this quartet." The Superintendent queried the Paladin, apparently oblivious to his demeanour.

"Sarcasm, look it up." The Paladin simply retorted.

"Sarcasm: a harsh or bitter expression of derision or ir..." The geth began.

"Didn't mean it!" The Paladin was quick to express, shutting the synthetic down quickly, before turning back to Tarkin. "You were saying?"

"Yeah well." The turian replied, slightly flustered. "It's our job to go in and cause some chaos. Now the place we're headed to was, according to the last reports, fully evacuated, but there may yet be some stragglers left. The primary is to cause as much disturbance as possible without getting killed, whilst we have a secondary of locating any potential members of the local resistance. As far as we know, there's a distinct lack of Reapers forces present on Benning, but Cerberus is apparently maintaing operations in the sector. Are you... familiar with Cerberus.?"

The Paladin and Ark did not respond, for he had not asked them. Instead they noticed him speaking directly to the synthetic to their side. The Superintendent briefly stared off into space, as if deep in thought, before his singular eye returned the turian's gaze.

"We are now." He replied.

"Fine." Tarkin said. "Well theres more to be said, but we can discuss that on the shuttle."

"Let's." The Paladin remarked, bounding out of his seat before strolling out of the room to the aforementioned shuttle.

The Superintendent made a similar notion, though preceded in his movements in a much more rigid mechanical like posture.

Tarkin was about to follow when he suddenly noticed that there was a krogan in the room. Well there had been a krogan in the room the entire time, but now the presence of Ark was all the more noticeable. For such a huge figure, as was krogan custom, he had done a pretty good job of keeping quiet ever since the Superintendent had started to explain his presence.

"You've been quiet." Tarkin addressed him, picking up on the obvious.

"Wha... Oh right." Ark spoke, and Tarkin had almost completely forgotten that he had ever spoke before.

"What it is?" Tarkin asked him, picking up on his obvious concerns swiftly.

"Just thinking." The krogan explained.

"About the geth?" Tarkin made a decent guess.

"Yeah." Ark confirmed his deduction.

"Quite the story isn't it. If you can wrap your head around it." Tarkin mused to himself.

"Of course I can do that." Ark said defensively. "It's just that... well, he's one geth. One of like millions. And the last time we heard about them they were the bad guys, right."

"What are you getting at?" Tarkin asked.

"Well." Ark began. "He says they're on our side now. But he doesn't know what they're up to now. If you ask me... if the geth were to suddenly make a comeback, and they just happened to still be the bad guys. And he were to join them..."

Ark's face obtained a tone of concern. Though Tarkin had his helmet on, the krogan could sense he was thinking along the same lines.

"Well we'll just have to be careful then." The turian remarked. "Now let's get going shall we."

He marched out of the room at a slightly hurried pace, followed shortly by Ark. Soon they had arrived at a hangar, a rather small empty one that contained one shuttle with it's doors open, where the figures of the Paladin and the Superintendent were stationed. But instead of the shuttle, there attention was drawn to the relatively large assortment of weapons stored nearby.

Taking a glance inside the craft, Tarkin noted it's lack of pilot. Normally not something for concern, but he also noticed that the whole hangar about them was empty save for the assemble of four, and he also noticed that the hallways leading to this hangar had been also devoid of any life. And somehow, he imagined the answer had something to do one of his new comrades.

"It figures a geth would just happen to prefer a geth weapon." The Paladin remarked, noticing the Superintendent observing two select weapons, a sniper rifle and a shotgun, both of the synthetic's make.

"We are conflicted." The Superintendent remarked. "We are indecisive as to which weapon would suit us in the incoming conflict."

"Well don't ask me." The Paladin replied. "I'm not a geth. And I don't go for those types anyway.

The Paladin was only partially interested in the arsenal of weapons, browsing through the available selection of pistols instead of inspecting the more heavy duty gear. He already had a massive shield that he could deploy on a whim, and properly wielding it with the right amount of finesse was more than enough strain on his physical capabilities. He was not the durable Destroyer, who would carry an elephant on his back if the situation demanded it, yet nor was he the flimsy Fury, who had to rely on cheap teleportation and fast legs to stay on the field. He was… the prevailing Paladin, and that meant he could burn, freeze, electrocute, bash and slam depending on the enemy he faced.

It was a unique outlook that did not seem to be shared by his synthetic comrade. The Superintendent observed his weapons of geth make, and seemed to be viewing them with regards to how well they would suit the scenario, rather than the geth. Something resembling an obstruction of contrasting factors manifested within his metal mind, which meant that new consensus was required, yet the Paladin was hardly to one to ask for his input, for he had little experience in the use of firearms that the geth would wield.

"Urdnot Ark?" The Superintendent requested of the recently appeared krogan. "We would like to ask you for your input."

The krogan eyed the geth with some shock at his particular request. "Umm… why me?"

"Your combat paradigms are the closest to us amongst this troop." The geth explained/

"Err, fine, go ahead." Ark complied quietly.

"What would you suggest: the sniper rifle, or the shotgun?" The Superintendent requested, much more to the point then Ark imagined.

The krogan observed the pair; the sniper rifle he was unfamiliar with, being unfamiliar with them in general, but the shotgun he could lend his expertise to.

"Ah, Geth Plasma Shotgun." He remarked. "Not really a shotgun by shotgun standards. I'd go with this."

"Is that the limit of your contribution?" The Superintendent pressed him, expecting something a little more in depth.

"I'm no geth." Ark defended himself. "I don't know how you're gonna play with those things."

"Acknowledged." His synthetic comrade commented, before turning to the pair of arms

The Superintendent stared stoically at the couple, taking in the krogan's advice in addition his already conflicted consensus. Finally, to the surprise of Ark, he picked up the sniper rifle, readying it in his metal arms and supplying himself with the appropriate amount of thermal clips.

"Well why did you bother asking for my opinion then?" Ark exclaimed somewhat irritated.

"If you have no experience in geth combat." The Superintendent replied. "Then your contribution would lead to misinformation which could prove hazardous to this platform's performance in the long run."

Ark stood speechless, taken back by his comrade's retort and finding it difficult to find an appropriate comeback.

"Ark, how dare you!" The Paladin joined in, scolding the krogan with mock concern. "Trying to get a geth killed, what's the matter with you, I mean really!"

"Hey, I didn't…" The krogan began.

"When you're all finished bonding." The voice of Tarkin harkened to them from the shuttle. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

That put an end to whatever brewing argument the trio had in mind. Ark was the first to eagerly jump aboard, followed swiftly by the Paladin, who was the first to turn around and notice that the Superintendent had not heeded the turian.

"What are you waiting for?" He called to the synthetic.

"We see no roads." The Superintendent simply replied.

The Paladin groaned. "Just get on, would you?"

That put an end to whatever brewing argument the trio had in mind. Ark was the first to eagerly jump aboard, followed swiftly by the Paladin, who was the first to turn around and notice that the Superintendent had not heeded the turian.

"What are you waiting for?" He called to the synthetic.

"We see no roads." The Superintendent simply replied.

The Paladin groaned. "Just get on, would you?"

As soon as the quartet was all aboard, Tarkin would have wasted no time in settling into the pilot's seat and getting the little craft started up. Yet just as he had sat down, the Superintendent placed a three fingered hand on his armoured shoulder in a cautionary pose.

"It would be preferable if we were to pilot." He stated.

"How'd you reckon that?" Tarkin asked.

"Our presence here is the reason we do not have a suitable pilot. Our presence is detrimental to your efforts. We must as least make up for this consequence." The geth explained.

Tarkin would have countered, but that would simply be wasting time. "Fine by me. Just don't do anything sudden, okay?"

And so he relinquished the controls to the geth, and proceeded back into the passenger compartment with Ark and the Paladin. Shortly after, the shuttle rose into the air, exited the hangar, and was soon on the short trek to the relay. About time, the turian thought.

"Now we're letting him fly the shuttle." Ark remarked as Tarkin joined them, quite audibly yet discreet enough so that his voice did not reach the cockpit.

"You ever heard the expression "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."" The Paladin asked him.

"No." The krogan replied.

"I don't blame you, it's a human phrase." The Paladin remarked. "It basically means learn to stop worrying and love the free geth."

"Right." Ark replied dubiously.

"Right then." Tarkin addressed them. "Ready to hear the rest of the plan."

"Another plan." The Paladin groaned. "I know you turians love to talk strategy but this is getting a little tedious for me. Do we really need a plan?"

"It helps to be prepared." Tarkin explained, finding himself a little hurt by the Paladin's words.

"Come on." The Paladin retorted. "We're an N7 Special Ops Team, best of the best. We excel at "adapting to rapid changes in developments on the battlefield." We don't need a plan, we can just make it up as we go along."

Tarkin was silent, while Ark almost cracked a smile.

"Well at least I can." The Paladin added.

"I promise this is a good plan." Tarkin made a somewhat bold comeback.

"It helps to have a good plan." Ark said, surprising the both of them.

"Oh well go on." The Paladin said defeated.

"Trust me." Tarkin said. "This is a good plan…"

* * *

It was a good plan alright. Tarkin thought so, and everything had go pretty well. Right up to the part where he found himself on the ground, his armoured shell stunned and a great many bruises about him. Cerberus had proven more than a match, perhaps even more so then the Reapers. But as a turian, it was in his nature to adapt to any combat scenario with ease. Tarkin felt a great many noises about him, as he soon realised that he did not have the luxury to be taking a quick break from battle, for soon, whatever had pinned him to the ground would soon be descending to finish the turian off.

Raising his helmet, Tarkin could see the hulking figures of those dastardly Cerberus Guardians approaching him, prevailing shields raised. Even though he had perhaps tangled with them for maybe an hour or so, he had already grown weary of them. Those shields of metal were just like the Paladin's of energy, but unlike their N7 counterpart, these Gaurdians could move about, albeit slowly. Yet despite his low disposition towards them, it had not been the Cerberus stormtroopers that had delivered the blows that had sent him tumbling to the ground. Rather it had been another menace that preferred close combat; someone with a cloak and a sword.

And there, to his left, Tarkin heard the all too familiar sound of a cloaked opponent materialising. Fortunately for him, he still had some composure about him, and a sudden burst of activity brewed within his heart, that spread throughout the turian's form. This provided the much needed opportunity to activate his propulsion packs, leaning back and rocketing away from the oncoming Guardians and the close by Phantom, and in an instance, Tarkin had regained his position on the battlefield.

Deciding to put his experience as a Ghost Infiltrator to proper use, Tarkin activated a cloak of his own, and performed another launch to the side with his backs, not breaking his shimmering form. The Phantom was persistent however, and performed an acrobatic leap in his general direction, her sword swinging and her barriers blazing. That did her little good however, as she soon felt her barriers blown away by a current of electricity, courtesy of the now visible Tarkin, who wasted no time in following up with a furious volley of fire from his assault rifle. The Phantom performed another summersault to evade him, and attempted her cloak again, but this was one determined turian, eager for some payback for the wounds she has inflicted upon him, and soon she had crumpled to the ground, the odds of her getting up again a soundly low.

Reloading his rifle in a flash, Tarkin turned his attention to the Guardians slowly marching towards him, still protected by their immense shields. Realising that tactical cloaks and propulsion packs were useful asserts when facing slow moving metal bulwarks that had trouble turning, Tarkin once again dissolved into a shimmering mist and launched himself directly out of their line of sight, attempting to get a good look at their unprotected backs, he soon found a suitable position and subsequently opened fire. The turian managed to get one of them, his shield dropping to the ground with an assuring clank as the trooper fell lifeless, before the others turned on him, their shields now deployed, and fully facing the turian.

This was proving somewhat difficult, it seemed. It was also proving to be taking far too much time, time that Tarkin could not afford to spend wasting away a few lowly Cerberus troopers. It looked like he would have to rely on his rifle's stability and his eyesight and make the shot right through the small visor within the Guardian's shield. Darting behind cover, there was one last trick up his Omni-Tool that would assist the turian in his sharpshooter endeavour. Activating the little device, Tarkin felt an immense rush of adrenaline as energy rushed all over his armour, fortifying his shields and infusing his weapon with a little extra kick. And with that stimulating pack inside him, Tarkin activated his cloak (for that little extra punch), rose out of cover, and in a few sparse volleys from his rifle, he had managed to nail the Guardians right through their slim weak spot, sending the bunch of them straight to the floor, soundly dead as the Phantom before them.

A good victory. However, it was far too brief and there was still plenty of Cerberus left amongst the battlefield. So reloading his rifle for the second time, the Ghost Infiltrator darted off to rendezvous with his his comrades. The shuttle should have landed by now, he reckoned as he sprinted through the desolated buildings, thankfully free of Cerberus troopers, who would have likely converged to greet his comrades.

Eventually, Tarkin came upon the sight he sought. He had arrived just behind a thick cluster of Cerberus soldiers. They had made quite the fortifications, if the multiple turrets set up was any sign. Now the Ghost Infiltrator was in a good position to perform something of, what his brother Attacus would have referred to as a Havoc Strike, but his sneaky sneaky version of one. Activating his cloak, Tarkin crept up behind the nearest turret, still being attended to by an Engineer, and subsequently overloaded the sinister contraption with a strong current of electricity and activating another stimulating pack, he opened fire upon the advancing Cerberus garrison.

The turret had exploded in a sound bang of metal that was followed soon by the Engineer kicking it before they realised he was there. A turian on his own would have proven an easy target, no having the luxury to dodge like some of the many other races could. Yet this was no ordinary turian, this was a member of the Armiger Legion, which meant that, as soon as Cerberus opened fire on his position, Tarkin simply bounded to the far right, aided by his rocket propelled armour, forcing them to adjust their assault in an attempt to do some damage to the slippery turian.

Eventually, his Armiger training served him well enough that Tarkin managed to dispose of all the turrets set up, along with some token troops, before he managed to push through to a fortification his comrades had set up.

There, behind cover, was the Paladin and the Superintendent. And there, gleefully bashing what Cerberus armour he could get at, protected by a holographic projection of his own, was Ark. The krogan must have pulverised more than a few heads, for he was now in the middle of an intense rage that even Tarkin saw sense to steer clear of. Yet even heavy krogan fist was not enough to deter more infernal Guardians from getting in close with him, flanking him whilst all the time protected from his melds fury by his fists. Unfortunately for them however, all of their backs were now bare to the turian, which meant that soon, their backs were then facing the floor, shieldless and lifeless. The loss of the Guardians and the ambushing Armiger Tarkin meant that in a short while, the quartet had all but wiped the area clean of Cerberus, though as the Paladin observed with bitterness, and the Superintendent observed with indifferent logic, this had mostly been the work of Ark and Tarkin.

"Hey turian!" Ark exclaimed joyfully, now that his rage had subsided. "I don't suppose your Armiger Legion's got an opening for krogan. Because I could really do with those jetpacks"

"Keep dreaming." Tarkin retorted, though internally he could not help but express some glee at the thought of a krogan leaping across the battlefield in rocket propelled bursts.

"Well you took your time." The Paladin remarked with some bother. "Did you trip and take a nap or something."

"Something like that." Tarkin replied, swiftly dismissing him and moving on to more pressing matters. "Well we're all here. Ready to get on with the plan?"

"You and your plans." The Paladin muttered. "But yeah, let's do this."

"Right then." Tarkin replied, turning his attention to address the whole of them. "Cerberus is coming, so now we split up. N7, you and me head east. Ark, Super, you go west."

"Gotcha." Ark replied, a little begrudgingly for being stuck with the geth.

"Acknowledged." The Superintendent... acknowledged.

So, taking a few more moments to recuperate and acquire what reserve ammunition and grenades there was to acquire, the group of four split into two, turian and human going one side, krogan and geth the other.

Ark kept some distance from the synthetic as they marched, and though he could not be sure of it, he reckoned the Superintendent was bestowing him the same courtesy. All around them, buildings rose high into the metropolis skyline, yet despite being in the midst of what was now a warzone, not a string of activity stirred. Venturing off the streets and delving into the buildings, it was more or less the same scenario. They had their objective; search for survivors, kill what Cerberus they found, yet since there were no signs of the latter, they were restricted to the latter. Though finding surviving humans in an already evacuated city occupied by Cerberus seemed like an all too redundant task, and soon, they found an indicator of that.

A small residence, not a military outpost, but someone's home. Cerberus would have had no interest in such a place, it would have likely slipped under their radar as they occupied it. Yet the krogan and geth soon came upon a room that apparently begged to differ. What seemed to be the living area, with sofas and chairs, which happened to be occupied by the corpses of humans.

A sad thing, Ark briefly mused to himself. Though not as sad as it properly should have been, for a krogan. If he was searching the residence of a krogan and found bodies there, it would have had a much more profound impact. If he was searching the residence of asari, and found blue bodies, he most likely would have expressed sadness at the loss of their beauty. If he was searching the residence of salarians or turians, and found bodies there, he would have been kind of sad, just a little. But humans... well they had had it rough.

The Superintendent on the other hand, seemed disinterested in the human cadavers lying in their awkward positions. Rather, his attention was drawn towards, of all things, a tree, standing silent at a far end of the room. Ark noticed the geth's glare, and was too bemused by the sight of a tree, for that was a rare thing to see on his homeworld. Yet, this tree did not seem like how a proper tree should look; lights were hung around it, their illuminations still dancing around despite their surroundings. And at the foot, lay several objects, indiscernible due to them being... wrapped up in paper. Ark was confused, was this how trees were generally treated on Earth? And why was the Superintendent so interested in this odd display.

"What's the meaning of that, then?" Ark questioned the synthetic.

The Superintendent's singular flashlight head turned to face the krogan. There was something unusually solemn about it.

"A human custom." He explained. "This time period correlates to Earth's calendar. It is a time of celebration amongst human communities... there are gestures of goodwill and gifts are shared amongst close ones."

"What's it called?" Ark asked.

"Christmas." The Superintendent explained, the metal voice somewhat downbeat, as if in reflection.

"Huh. Strange." Ark mused. "Well, there's nothing here. Let's go."

The krogan made the motion to leave the room, the fruitlessness of their search offering no incentive to stay. Yet as he reached the exit, turning back he noticed that the Superintendent had instead moved closer to the decorative tree, unmoving, eye fixed on the wrapped up items piled at the bottom.

"Geth?" Ark called back, groaning slightly in impatience. "Superintendent?"

The geth snapped out of his trance, turning to look at the krogan, and noticing that he was now far from him, caught up to him in a swift bound.

As soon as the duo had stepped out of the building, a very different scene awaited them. Though there was still a persistent silence, a very faint mechanical hum could heard nearby. Sensing that something very challenging was headed their way, Ark was about to suggest to the Superintendent that they should locate to a preferable ambush point, but as he turned, he found the geth's single eye turning a deep red, fixated on the wall to their left.

"What is it?" He asked with concern.

"There is a large mechanical construct on the opposite side of this wall." The Superintendent informed him indifferently.

Ark would have asked him to elaborate, but at that instance the wall in question had exploded in a fiery haze as a gargantuan mech of Cerberus design emerged from the rubble and smoke.

The krogan did not need any further prompting to come to the conclusion that this metal monster might prove a little too much for him. Instantly activating his Omni-Tool and covering himself in his protective holographic armour, Ark ran for cover as much as his slow krogan form would allow. Now in a suitable position Ark turned to contend with the unfamiliar foe, and found his cover barraged by a volley of rockets from the mech. Still, nothing he could not adapt to, and so readied a handful of grenades in his gauntlet. Noticing the breaks in the mech's volley, he rose from cover and threw them with decent krogan accuracy, hitting the giant enemy right in the middle of it's tough canopy, and causing it to stagger.

Still, Ark did not feel too confident in engaging the mech one-on-one. He may have been a hardened krogan veteran with more than a lifetime of experience dealing with many a foe across a wide variety of battlefields and weapons... but those metal claws looked tough.

The metal claws of the mech reared and shot off another volley of powerful slugs in the krogan's direction. It might have actually been able to do some damage, for it was soon closing in on Ark's position, who did not have a plentiful amount of grenades to contend with this beast. But in it's assault, it had neglected to pay attention to the other contender on the battlefield, and it payed for that when he felt an immensely powerful projectile from a geth sniper rifle drill right into it's armoured hull.

Yet as soon as it had recovered, the Cerberus swivelled on the spot to face the attacking geth, and immediately sent a rocket his way. Unlike the heavily armoured Ark, the Superintendent was not built nearly as much to withstand such a punishment, but managed to hop out of the way of the rocket and avoided the subsequent explosion. The mech was hardly finished however, as it promptly followed up with a barrage of energy projectiles from it's faster firing arm cannon. The Superintendent did his best to relocate in order to deliver another lethal shot from his rifle, but unlike before that was now proving quite the challenge now that the mech was descending upon him.

And soon enough, the geth slipped up and felt a powerful barrage hit his vulnerable figure. He staggered, which soon led to a tumble to the ground, which might have proved able to recover from, but the Superintendent was caught again by another round from the mech, dropping his shields and pining him to the ground. He nevertheless mustered the energy to slide across the floor on all fours to the relative safety of cover. The giant mech persisted however, but found itself another foe in the now charging Ark, who threw another fistful of grenades at the metal beast, causing it to predictably turn to face the new foe, but that brief moment of pause was all the Superintendent needed to rise to face it, aim his rifle, and with exceptional precision, hit it right on the important looking core on it's back. That set off a chain reaction that shock the giant rigorously, before it promptly exploded in a haze of metal and smoke.

Standing triumphant over the wreck, Ark punched his fists together in a gesture of toughness, his synthetic comrade soon joining him.

"Not bad." The krogan mused.

"We would likely not have been able to achieve the same results... with the shotgun." The geth reflected.

Ark was just about to counter him, but at moment, he felt a hot projectile, likely of biotic origin, fly past his shoulder and hit the Superintendent square in his frame, causing him to reel back. Turning to investigate the source, the krogan saw two Phantoms emerge from the ruin that the giant mech had made, their swords drawn and their palms outstretched.

"Oh, now you're asking for it." He uttered with silent fury.

Bellowing as best as his display of lungs would allow him, Ark charged straight at the duo of fatales. The first one to feel the brunt of his attack was sent flying, out of the fight for a precious period that allowed him freedom with her partner. This Phantom did not attempt to flank him acrobatically with her flexible form, but rather slowly circled around him, her sword drawn menacingly. Ark hardly in the mood to entertain this strange way of combat foreplay, and simply charged at her with all his best. The Phantom hopped to the side but was caught nonetheless, and staggered ever so briefly, still maintaining her feet firmly on the ground. Ark simply followed up by drawing in close, and clasping his mighty armoured fists around the flimsy hand that held the blade, and with all his might, he yanked a mighty yank.

The Phantom was now sent to the ground for good this time. The sword came free, and Ark tossed it aside, before he descended on his lying foe, raising his boot and slamming it into her face with the same brute strength as his charge had been. A rather sickening crunch of flesh mixed in with metal greeted him, yet to the krogan, it only served to add to his growing rage. Now, he turned to where to the other Phantom had been, but as he expected, found himself staring at nothing. Then suddenly, he heard the distinct cackle as she materialised close by, and made a sharp turn to face her, but found her not engaging him, but rather facing the much more vulnerable Superintendent.

Ark let out another rage filled roar, and charged at the Phantom, but found her to be the multi-tasking fiend, as she raised her palm and blasted him with another one of those indeterminable and infernal projectiles that promptly drained his shields all in one go. Now he actually felt staggered himself, a strange first for him that gave the Phantom time to engage the Superintendent, who robust synthetic form and heavy rifle rendered him at an disadvantage against her sword. One swift slash stunned the geth, doing quite a number on his shields that withheld nonetheless, the Phantom simply followed up with another slash, this time sending the Superintendent crashing to the floor.

Briefly diverting her attention from the geth, the Phantom pelted Ark with another round from the cannon on her arm. Now for the first time, the krogan felt it dig right though his armour and cut into his hide. Another one of those and he could lose a heart, yet he could not muster the required energy to launch himself off the ground to get to her in time. Looking up with heavy panting, he saw the Phantom turn back to the Superintendent, who seemed to be in a similar state, pinned to the ground on all fours, his singular eye looked up to face his assailant, who was now ready to bring her blade down and deliver a finishing blow. Ark could not get there in time, and neither could the Superintendent bring his rifle to meet the rapidly closing blade. It did not look good.

Yet at that moment, a sudden process of thought entered geth's collective consensus. Right as the blade was a good foot away, he raised his hands with remarkable dexterity, and slammed down on the floor beneath him. In an instant, the Superintendent's figure was hidden beneath a bright web of green and blue energy that completely encased him. This strange cocoon of energy pulsated and shot off a projectile that hit the towering Phantom, who disintegrated to a green glow of goo the moment it hit her.

Now that the threat had been dealt with, the pulsating energy around the Superintendent dissolved in an instant, the geth rising to his feet to briefly observe his handiwork, before attending to the krogan, who was struck a little speechless.

"What the... was that?" He uttered, completely mystified by the geth's strange display.

"A contingency." The Superintendent informed him, indifferent to his state of bewilderment. "Are you wounded, Urdnot Ark?"

The krogan got to his feet. "I'm alright. Not sure if I'm hallucinating or something, but I'll live."

The Superintendent allowed Ark some time to recuperate after their rather enduring skirmish with the Phantoms and giant mech, while he simply awaited patiently. Being of synthetic stock, the geth felt no organic reactions to their battle, and considered himself fully rejuvenated the moment his shields had returned to maximum. In no time at all, the krogan had recovered and they were off, intending to regroup with their turian and human comrades.

_**Speaking of them...**_

"You have any family, Paladin?" Tarkin asked innocently enough as the lack of any encounters with Cerberus afforded him the luxury.

"Excuse me?" The Paladin asked in return.

"You know what family means, don't you?" Tarkin explained.

"Oh right." The Paladin remarked, before coming up with an appropriate counter. "Well, you know what I think? I think the only reason you would bother to ask something that would be if you had any family of your own, and you wanted to see how everyone else is doing."

"Okay." Tarkin replied slowly. "Good guess there."

"So?" The Paladin continued.

"So what?" Tarkin asked.

"So... got any family?" The Paladin stated irritatingly.

"Oh, right." Tarkin remarked. "Two brothers."

"Civilians?" The Paladin inquired.

"No, they're Armiger, just like me." Tarkin was quick to clarify.

"Wonderful, a whole bunch of flying turians." The Paladin muttered, slightly dreading the thought of so many turians with so many propulsion packs.

"How about you?" Tarkin questioned.

"How about me what?" The Paladin repeated.

"How about you... family." Tarkin elaborated.

"Oh... right." The Paladin said quietly, his tone becoming slightly brooding. "Yeah, I have family."

"Have, as in... still alive." Tarkin dared to probe further.

"Yeah, still alive." The Paladin sighed bitterly to himself.

"Still alive... in peril." Tarkin pressed on, an unusual eagerness about him.

"No no, all right." The Paladin indulged him. "Just... not on good terms right now."

"Oh, sorry." Tarkin quickly replied, though thinking he may have been a little late.

"A daughter." The Paladin said to himself, almost forgetting he was having a conversation. "It's been a while."

"Don't you think now's the time to... you know." Tarkin suggested.

"You sound like the Slayer." The Paladin mused bitterly.

"Who?" Tarkin asked.

"Nothing, let's move on." The Paladin quickly said, noticing how slow they were moving and picking up the pace.

Tarkin struggled to keep up with the Paladin, who seemed keen on finding Cerberus to take his mind off his happy reminiscence. Eventually, they stubbled upon an appropriate sight, a large cluster of Cerberus consisting of regular Troopers, Guardians and Engineers. The duo found themselves an optimal opportunity to swiftly reduce this assortment to a pulverised heap of corpses, but first they needed a good plan to execute this motion. And good plans seemed to be something of a specialty to Tarkin.

"Ready to put that shield to good use while I get into position?" He asked the Paladin as they tailed the group discreetly from behind.

"Just be quick about it, this thing won't last forever." The Paladin cautiously informed him, getting into position.

Cloaking, Tarkin moved up with the troops, his pulse racing just a bit as he came wiring inches of them. The Paladin positioned himself directly behind the marching band, and aiming his pistol (the appropriately named Paladin), shot one of the turret backpacks on one of the Engineer, following it up with a blast of intense heat that incinerated the soldier and alerting them to his presence.

Just like clockwork, Cerberus reacted as he imagined they would. The troopers started firing their weapons, some pacing up whilst others moved for cover, the Engineers moved back, likely to place their turrets, and the Guardians began their slow march up to the Paladin, their nigh impenetrable shields held firm. The Paladin anticipated this, however, and had immediately deployed his own shield, saving himself from the returning barrage of fire. The hail relented upon his Omni-Shield, but the Paladin maintained a firm grip. Still, his contraption would not hold out forever, demanding that his turian comrade make haste.

Tarkin manoeuvred around the cluster until they all had their backs Guardians were the first to go, opening fire in short controlled burst that soon sent them and their shields to the ground. Next up were the Engineers, overloading their turrets with his electric energy and following up with his assault rifle, allowing the Paladin the time to retract his Omni-Shield and deal with the remaining troopers who proved unmatched against their combined efforts.

"A little easier then I thought." The Paladin mused to himself, surveying their combined destruction.

"That's teamwork for you." Tarkin remarked.

"And your excellent plans." The Paladin retorted with mock appraisal.

"Yeah well…" Tarkin began, before a far off sound made him pause.

Off in the distance, they could make out the sounds of conflict, particularly the sounds of explosive weaponry going off. The duo were just about to make a dash for the source before, to their surprise, the Superintendent came dashing around a corner, electric sparks cackling about him and the flashlight eye ablaze in a red light.

"What is it? Where's Ark?" Tarkin was quick to question the fleeing geth.

"Ark? Ark… Oh, Ark?" The Superintendent replied somewhat forgetfully, before the krogan in question came dashing round the corner after him, a little more clumsily, which may have been due to the blade of a Phantom digging into his armoured plating.

"Not this way." He yelled to his comrades, taking a moment to snap the intruding sword from his armour.

The krogan and the geth darted straight past the human and turian, who decided to wait and see what kind of threat was coming their way. They soon found out, as a couple of troopers came into their line of sight. These they dispatched with ease, but it was the pair of giant mechs (which the Paladin understood to be Atlases) followed in their wake, which were soon joined by _another _pair of Atlases, creating a thick blockade that the Paladin felt reluctant to deploy his shield in front of and see if it would hold. So the duo retreated, following Ark and the Superintendent until they were a good distance away from the cluster of monstrous mechs.

"Now what?" Ark asked in despair.

"I think we've overstayed our welcome." The Paladin remarked. "To the shuttle!"

And so they scarpered across the barren metropolis to where their shuttle awaited, each going at varying speeds. Tarkin had his propulsion packs that had more than compensated for the turian lack of mobility, but since he had no idea as to where their shuttle lay exactly, he was forced to follow the Paladin, who may have had the most innate agility out of all of them, being of tough human stock. The Superintendent followed at a somewhat stiff pace, his synthetic form facing trouble adjusting to the tight corners they manoeuvred around, but he was still in a better position than Ark, who was bringing up the rear attempting to keep pace as much as his cumbersome krogan form would allow. Soon they came upon the little vehicle that awaited them, grateful that it had remained elusive of Cerberus. Clambering aboard, Tarkin decided to take charge of the craft and wasted no time in taking it to the skies

"Well that was a complete waste of time, or what." The Paladin bitterly remarked, pacing about the craft after they had properly recovered.

"What?" Ark asked in confusion.

"What exactly did we accomplish down there?" The Paladin retorted. "Didn't find a soul except from Cerberus and we hardly did a number on them."

"Well, we'll just have to try harder next time." Ark responded optimistically, finding the Paladin's dismissal of their efforts off-putting.

Avoiding any potential argument with the krogan, the Paladin moved over to the lighter mannered Superintendent, finding the geth hunched in the corner with his back to the group.

"What've you got there, Super?" He inquired innocently enough, noticing him examining something in his hands.

The geth briefly turned his eye to address the Paladin, quickly removing the item from the human's view. "It is nothing…"

"It's obviously something." The Paladin was quick to retort, closing in to get a better look at what the Superintendent was withholding from him.

Eventually, the geth saw that he could not so easily dismiss the Paladin, and carefully presented to him the object in his hands. To him, it was something the geth had recovered from the battlefield without carefully consolidating why he had done so, but to the Paladin, it was something that he, as a human could easily identify.

"A present." He observed. "A Christmas present."

Ark leaned forwards, noticing that the Superintendent held within his hands one of the wrapped items from the decorative tree they had passed by earlier.

"Why did you take one of those?" The krogan asked, not understanding the reasoning behind this unusual act for a logic abiding geth.

"We… do not know." The Superintendent replied stoically. "There… was no one to open it."

"Are you going to open it?" The Paladin asked curiously.

The Superintendent observed the parcel within his grasp. "We do not know…"

* * *

**So, what did you think of that then. I thought that was pretty full of lots of interactions between the characters, a lot more then previous chapters. The only thing that's a little off to me is that the Paladin's behaviour doesn't quite match how he acts like in previous chapters. I might have to rewrite him a little. But Tarkin and the Superintendent, oh, they are me at my best.  
**

**Now for the next chapter (not the last), it's going to have a humourous side to it, as it will take place inside the proper 11 rounds of a multiplayer match. That's all I've got to say because I don't want to make this too long of an author's note, so see you next time.  
**


	8. Rabbia e Tarantella

**I'll be honest, was not expecting to follow up on the longest chapter yet... with an _even longer _chapter. Whether it's the _best _chapter, well that's up to your interpretation. Without giving too much away, the whole comedic angle I was hoping for doesn't quite cover the whole chapter, only about 40% of it. The rest is all _melodrama_. **

* * *

The Slayer could not believe he had agreed to take part in this. All throughout the whole process, he kept relaying the information through his head. They were N7 Operatives, and this was their way of having recreational fun; it was more than a little peculiar thing for them to be doing. Yet somehow it all made sense, in a strange way, it was a good opportunity to put their particular set of talents to further use, they could be exercising their bodies, having fun, and learning a little something about each other as a nice bonus. And any excuse for him to put both his prowess with biotics and blade for non-violent purposes forward was more then a plus for him.

So as he made his way to the race track, one sunny afternoon in the villa of Rio de Janeiro, Earth, he could not help but grow a little excited within about what awaited him.

And there, waiting by the track in their finest sports gear, was the Shadow and the Fury, ready for the first challenge of the day. Even though they were all friends here, the Slayer could not help but sense that some sparks were flying between the two women as they performed their warm up exercises. Noticing the oncoming Slayer, the Fury promptly straightened herself out of the rather revealing position she was in.

"There you are!" She exclaimed, panting slightly from her warm up. "What took you so long? Got lost, or did you need to attend to your lesser biotics again?"

"That's what I like about you Fury." The Slayer retorted attempting to match her cheek. "You take something as simple as being late and turn it into something that makes you look all the more impressive."

"Well I try my best." The Fury replied somewhat perkily, deciding his comeback was cleverly crafted so that it did not anger her.

"Madame Shadow. You alright?" The Slayer addressed with some measure of concern to the Shadow, who was still honing her body for the physical test ahead.

Unlike the Fury, she was hardly about to let someone like the Slayer prevent her from achieving the peak of her physical condition. She would finish when she considered herself fully assembled.

"Yes fine, Danke Slayer." She replied, quite unfazed despite the fact that she was sprawled out on the ground with her legs stretched the widest apart.

Opening one of the bottles of water he had brought with him, the Slayer found his seat and took a gracious mouthful, the hot sun proving quite unmerciful today. The Fury simply made sure her yellow braids of hair were properly tied back, not wanting them to be a burden later on. The Shadow's raven locks were already composed in a neat bun that was proving quite resilient despite the demanding positions she was contorting herself into.

"Okay Shadow." The Fury said restlessly. "I think you've done enough, so could you please get up now, I'd like to get on with this."

"I'll finish when I am ready, Fraülein Fury." The Shadow replied, quite composed by still slightly irritated.

"Easy on her, Fury. She'll finish when she's ready." The Slayer said, before turning to the Shadow. "You take your time, okay. I for one don't mind watching you bend yourself like that a little while longer."

As soon as the Shadow heard the Slayer finish those words, her eyes snapped open, turning to him with a face that was formally composed now turned to fury. In an instant, she snapped her contours to, finishing her stretches in an instant and standing alongside the Fury awaiting their challenge.

"That was all you had to say, Fury." The Slayer remarked.

"You'd like me to say that, wouldn't you?" She scolded him. "Now, you all set?"

"Of course." He replied, taking out a stopwatch, finding the task that faced the Fury and Shadow demanded a more old fashioned approach then an Omni-Tool. "Shall we start with the one hundred metre, or the eight hundred first?"

"I'd like to do the eight hundred first." The Fury said. "If that's okay with you, Shadow?"

"Of course." She sneered. "You first."

"Oh generous." The Fury commented, before getting herself into position at the start of the race course.

The Fury only needed a few more deep breaths before she had fully assumed the position where she would commence her run at the Slayer's behest.

"All set?" He queried her.

"Yep." She replied, her body to the floor ready to pounce.

The Slayer held out the stopwatch. "On your marks. Get set. Go!"

The Fury practically leapt out of her formally composed position on the ground and commenced her run. The Slayer and Shadow saw her off, watching her trek around the course at a pace that was considered pretty standard for someone to survive the N7 Program, but amongst lesser athletically inclined men and women, it was nothing short of Olympian.

"1:36!" The Slayer exclaimed as the Fury dashed across the finish time. "...and 76 milliseconds. Think you can match that Fraülein?"

The Shadow was unfazed by his taunt, simply settling herself at the head of the race track. The Fury stood by the Slayer, still panting immensely from her rather exceptional display, certainly considering it quite an achievement, but she could not consider herself content until she had witnessed what the Shadow was capable of.

"...Go!" The Slayer exclaimed once again, and the Shadow was already meters away just a second after he had finished.

The Slayer and the Fury watched the Shadow dash around the track at an indeterminable pace. The Fury could feel a slight skittish feeling about her, not sure of how to react, while the Slayer simply wished he had the same endurance about him, knowing how useful being a fast runner could come in handy (though he had least made up for it with his biotic charges).

In no time at all, the Shadow had cleared the finish line. Now the Slayer was faced with two eager women, one slightly out of breath, one mostly, but each waiting to see which one had trumped the other in the art of long distance running. He could not help but keep them waiting just a little longer, enjoying this strange position of power they were giving him.

"One minute..." He began, intentionally pausing just a little longer.

"Yes." The Fury edged him quite patiently.

"Come on." The Shadow expressed a lot less patiently.

"Forty two." He finished.

The Shadow bowed her head, while the Fury let out a squeal of victory, her figure shaking about erratically.

"Now the hundred metres." The Shadow simply stated, wasting no time in allocating herself across the field to the shorter race track.

The Fury regained her composure and soon joined her quite bitter, but nevertheless determined teammate. Taking another minute of preparation, the two N7 Operatives were soon in the position for the final challenge that would decide whether the Fury was really a good runner, or simply a runner. The Slayer naturally positioned himself at the track's side, finding their silent and honed figures quite off-putting, sensing how much they were invested into this.

"On your marks. Get set." He began. "... Go!"

Like a pair of cheetahs, the Fury and Shadow pounced upon the race track, the Slayer's pair of eyes grew tired by attempting to keep up with them. It was an intense race that was really over before the Slayer could properly register it. Fortunately, they did not have to rely on him to tell them who had won, and their figures were both recorded by a V.I operating at the end of the track.

"Ha! I won, hehe!" The... Fury announced when the results were revealed, jumping up into the air in glee, heedless of the silent Shadow beside her.

The German simply closed her eyes again and did her best to calm the growing feelings of envy stirring within her. Her attention was drawn away when the Fury placed a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"Hey. Sorry for getting a little carried away there." She did her best to appear comforting. "We're still best friends, right?"

The Shadow struggled to get out an answer, but to her surprise found herself wrapped in a tight hug by her teammate, the concern all the more obvious by now.

"Yeah I guess so." She admitted quietly, eliciting a gracious smile from the Fury.

"Nice to see you're taking it well." The Slayer remarked, joining them. "Now Fury, you up for the next contest."

"You bet." The Fury replied enthusiastically. "Just give me a second to rest up. Shadow, you up for being our judge?"

The Shadow agreed, but only because it would be pointless not to. This next particular challenge was something she simply could not take part in, due to her being completely devoid of any Element Zero and the biotic potential it bestowed. The Fury and the Slayer, on the other hand, were both practically breathing the stuff, each a powerhouse and some of the very best biotic warriors humanity had to offer. So it would prove interesting to see who really was the best handler; was it the fancy Fury with her hues of light and dark blue, or the slippery Slayer with his charges a deep purple.

After some much needed rest and preparation, the trio found themselves in appropriate gym, with the Slayer and Fury decked out in their best equipment that allowed them to harness their biotic capacities. The Shadow was close by, grateful to be the neutral party for a change.

"You both know the drill." She instructed. "The winner is whoever destroys all the target dummies using the least amount of biotics."

"I'll go first." The Slayer offered, preparing himself via a deep biotic glow about him.

The Fury and Shadow got into position, each eagerly awaiting how the Slayer would apply finesse to this course. He braced himself in front of the many target dummies scattered about, some clustered together whilst others were isolated, making it a certain challenge to take down all of them without exerting biotics too much.

"And... begin." The Shadow ushered.

The Slayer stood silently at first, surprising his teammates quite a bit who expected him to launch into one of his many charges. Instead, he performed an acrobatic leap, reminiscent of the Shadow, and issued a bright blue shockwave of biotics. The energy swept in a direct line right through the course, hitting just under half of the dummies, knocking them out instantly. After his little splash had dissolved into nothingness, the Slayer then proceeded to launch himself biotically across the course at the next big cluster of dummies, promptly ending them in an instant. Straightening himself out, the Slayer attended to the rest of his targets, stretching out his palm and blasting each of them with a bright purple shot of barrier energy.

"Three... four, five uses." The Shadow counted, a bit redundantly since all were clearly capable of seeing the Slayer's efforts.

"My turn." The Fury remarked, cracking her knuckles together and preparing her biotics.

The Slayer joined the Shadow whilst the Fury got into position. Despite feeling content with his display, the Slayer felt a noticeable amount of anxiety in anticipating how the Fury would interpret this challenge.

"And, you're off." The Shadow announced as soon as everything and everyone was in place.

The Fury briefly examined the area laid out in front of her, before she concentrated hard and shrouded a thick dark field of biotics around her. Then, she took off, darting around the first set of target dummies, that were soon infected with a glow of blue energy that the signalled that they were primed and ready for a follow up detonation. The Fury obliged her targets and threw one blast of blue biotics, hitting one and tossing it to the far end of the room, but more importantly, setting off an explosion that affected all the dummies closest to it, leaving just under half of them left. The took the same approach, skirting around them, sticking her biotic energy to them before following up with a detonating blast that saw the whole field soon barren of dummies.

Thoroughly satisfied, the Fury strolled back towards the Shadow and Slayer, doing the simple math in her head and cracking a big smile on her face. The Slayer stood somewhat fidgety, finding himself more then flustered.

"Surely the field counts as one." He did his best to put up a defence.

"I guess it's fair." The Shadow said. "But even then, that was no more than four uses of biotics."

"Meaning, I win." The Fury finished for her, the smile not fading in the slightest.

"Well we've still got the teleportation left. Don't you count me out yet." The Slayer was quick to point out, starting the short trek to the appropriate course.

The Shadow and Fury followed him, and soon all three stood at an obstacle course that was thick with barriers and blockades of varying sizes, something that made navigation somewhat treacherous. The Shadow looked upon the course and found it to be a good opportunity for her to test out her acrobatic potential, and considered it a personal waste that the Slayer and Fury would be using it for very different purposes. Her teammates took their positions, each facing the obstacle display with a determination to give it their very best.

"On your marks. Get set." The Shadow made the necessary obligations somewhat tediously. "Go."

Both the Slayer and the Fury evaporated into clouds of mist, reappearing quite close to each other in the midst of the course. Wasting no time, they raced each other through the field, hopping over obstacles when they could and utilising their biotics when they could not. The Shadow ran alongside the outskirts of the course, being offered a good vantage point to see how they were faring. The Fury was naturally the faster on foot, sliding and slithering with unmatched agility, yet the Slayer had the slight advantage when it came to teleportation. Being able to charge like he did had it's advantages, but he could only do it in wide open spaces that were far and wide. With all the biotics flying, it was quite remarkable that the two had managed not to harm each other, yet there was definitely some fierce competition obvious to the on looking Shadow, who had now reached the finish line.

Just barely ahead of the Fury.

"Damn, I am on fire today." She cried boastfully, standing triumphant just as the Slayer had materialised in a purple cloud alongside her.

"You don't say." He sneered, noticeably less enthusiastically then her.

"Oh don't worry about it." She replied, before taking the conversation in a different direction "Now... you two ready for the last challenge of the day?"

The Slayer's rather sulking attitude took on a different upbeat tone, while the Shadow lost herself in her thoughts about what awaited them.

"Looking forward to judging it." The Fury remarked.

Now, unlike the previous two trials if the day, the Slayer and the Shadow were both eagerly awaiting this one. One of the reasons it was noticeably more important to them was that it did not involve the Fury, whom they had both grown slightly tired of, with her consistent winning streak. What was coming up was something much more important to the Shadow then her running abilities, or the Slayer with his apt for teleportation. This was something that would decide a whole lot more to them in the field of who was the real wielder when it came to a particular weapon they were both adept in.

It was with that growing tension that the trio prepared themselves for the third and final challenge of the day. The judging Fury arrived first in the small gym they had set up, carrying a large fancy case quite carefully, considering the contents inside. Soon, she was joined by her teammates, each dressed in light robes that allowed them the proper finesse for what they were about to do.

"Got the Medi-Gel?" The Fury asked the Slayer with a good measure of concern.

"If course, but if we're careful, we really shouldn't need it." He replied quite optimistically. "Ain't that right Shadow?"

The Shadow did not grant him a response, simple flexing her fingers and arms for the challenge. With some trepidation, the Fury settled the case she was carrying onto a table, opening the locks as the Slayer looked on in anticipation.

Inside, bound in tight leather holsters, were two swords. The Fury took them each in her hands with tense fingers, and handed them over to her teammates, who wasted no time in drawing the blades with much more nimbler digits.

"Hey guys." The Fury expressed with concern. "Please try not to get two intense, okay."

"Of course." The Slayer reassured her. "This is just a friendly competition of strengths right?"

The Shadow gave an expression that did not seem to match the Slayer's confidence that there would anything friendly about this.

"Right, well, take your places." The Fury beckoned the pair, who positioned themselves on the wide mat, staring down each other with their swords drawn.

The Shadow stared into the Slayer with a glare as sharp as the blade she wielded. The Slayer briefly thought for a moment about simply feigning lesser dexterity and allowing her an easy victory, but then his chief competitive side stepped up and subdued all those thoughts.

"Operatives." The Fury began, somewhat dramatically but still with a strong sense of dread about her. "Fight!"

It did not have quite the extravagant start as the rest of their competitions that day did. The pair rather slowly paced around their perimeter keeping a minimal sense of movement whilst glaring each other and keeping their weapons still. Eventually, the Shadow made a sudden pounce on the Slayer, bringing her blade to meet his with a good sense of restrained fury present, not wanting to exert herself fully yet. The Slayer was quick to counter her with ease, blocking her attacks with ease, showing some restrain too, as he was keeping a good defence, waiting for the opportunity when the Shadow relented to make a quick counterattack.

The Shadow did no such thing, instead she simply kept up her offensive, a similar tactic forming in her head. It was her aim to constantly make the Slayer parry her strikes, whilst keeping herself from becoming too aggressive, for that burst of energy she would save for when she really meant it. Eventually, she pulled back, maintaining her posture and playfully flipping her blade in her hand in some strange kind of taunt. The Slayer did not pursue her, opting to keep up his defence, which was causing him little in the way of stamina, for his arm barely felt tired. His opponent on the other hand, was breathing in deep amounts of breath quite apparent to all, but it was a brief resupply of strength before she was on him again, her sword strokes just a bit more relentless this time.

The pair worked themselves into an eventual fierce state of battle, causing the Fury no amounts of worry that one of them might cause some damage. It was one thing to race someone, and it was another thing entirely to fight them, as the Shadow and Slayer kept up their duel, both were showing obvious signs of their strength draining, but neither wanted to be the one to admit defeat. So they kept at it, the Shadow descending upon the Slayer with her arms swinging through the air with an almost primal rage, as her elegant composure slowly lost itself to the urge to come out top, and the Slayer was forced to rebuke her at everything interval, finding it hard to maintain his increasingly weakening defence.

Eventually, the Shadow pulled back, the muscles in her weapon arm stretched incredibly thin, and breathing in deep breaths just to maintain herself on her two feet. The same could be said of the Slayer, that is, until he realised how good of an opportunity this was to seize, and so promptly launched at the Shadow, turning the roles of defence and offence on their heads and only increasing the alarm brewing within the Fury.

The Shadow was taken aback by his sudden change in strategy, but adapted to meet him, swinging her blade now to counter the Slayer's assault. She found him to be quite the foe, as he persisted, determined to get through to her. And that he soon did, for unlike the Slayer, the Shadow was not so skilled in maintaining the balance in her feet, and as she darted to the side to avoid him, her legs bumped together awkwardly, causing her to trip up and fall promptly to the ground. The Slayer was quick to use this opportunity, but the Shadow quickly deflected him yet again, not considering herself out despite being at a disadvantage on the floor.

She jumped to her feet in a flash, but the Slayer simply brought his blade upon hers with additional force, sending her toppling yet again. In another wild swing, his sword struck the Shadow's, who now could not deflect him yet again, the steel clashing painfully, her grip relenting, and her sword was struck right out of her hand, leaving her with her opponent's right at her neck.

The Slayer looked upon the Shadow at his mercy. The glare within her eyes was practically incendiary, as he felt his grip upon his weapon weaken ever so slightly. The Fury looked on, now breathing quite heavily herself, as for an ever so brief moment she honestly thought that the Slayer was just about ready to cut the Shadow's neck, and watch her life ebb away at his feet.

The Slayer of course, did no such thing, and soon he subsided the rather menacing glare he was giving the Shadow for one of perky pride, even managing a slight laugh before he retracted his blade.

"I think that means I won." He remarked casually, before offering his hand to the Shadow on the floor.

His defeated opponent simply maintained the piercing glare she was giving him. The Fury could understand, and found the Slayer quite reckless for greeting her cheerfully after he had just bested her in a field of combat she considered herself well versed at. The Shadow made her way to her feet without the aid of the Slayer, walked over quite serenely to where her discarded blade lay, picked it up and holstered it, laying it back inside it's case, and quietly leaving the room.

"Oh no." The Slayer remarked. "I mean, I knew she'd take it hard, but not that hard."

"I'll talk to her, finish up here." The Fury said, leaving the Slayer and quickly following in the Shadow's wake.

She found her teammate walking quite silently away from the gym into the changing rooms. The Fury followed her in.

"Hey Shadow." She addressed her. "You okay?"

"If you don't mind, Fury." The Shadow was quick to reply solemnly. "I'd rather shower alone, thank you."

"Oh I didn't..." The Fury flustered to herself. "I mean, I'll just wait, err, wait here."

The Shadow simply dismissed her with a careless hand wave, before moving behind the wall that separated them, and hopping into one of the waiting showers. The Fury heard the water start running, denying her the chance to talk to her obvious wounded teammate, both in body and pride, but she remained there patiently. Eventually, the water stopped, and in a few short moments the Shadow had re-emerged, body and hair wrapped up in towels. The Fury briefly noted that if their positions were reversed, she would find it quite uncomfortable to be in the presence of another women in such a wet state, yet the Shadow did not seem to mind it as such. Perhaps it was because the two did not share the same sexual orientation, but that was far from the reason that she was here.

"Look, Shadow." She begun. "We're friends, you and I. But I'm also friends with the Slayer as well. I'd hate for you two to split apart..."

"Please, Fury." The Shadow interrupted her dismissively. "It's just swordplay. I'll get over it. I'm just a little... hurt right now."

"Oh okay then." The Fury replied with some measure of relief. "That's good, for a moment I was- oh!"

The Fury quickly diverted her gaze, for at that instance the Shadow had discarded her towel and begun changing, all within eyesight of the quite embarrassed Fury.

"Oh come on." She cried out, noticing the Fury's actions. "It's the twenty third century, I'm not gonna scold you for looking."

"Oh, well in that case." The Fury said, getting up and quickly darting over to the door. "Slayer! Could you come in here for a moment?"

The Slayer heard her calling and promptly investigated, bemused as to why she would request his presence in the women's changing room of all places, but by the time he had entered, the Shadow had dressed herself up again completely, denying the sight of her naked figure to frankly, the last person on Earth she felt was deserving to see it.

"Oh nothing." The Fury casually remarked.

"Right. Sure." The Slayer commented disbelievingly. "Well, all this exercise has left me quite famished. I think we've all earned ourselves some lunch."

"What a good idea." The Shadow said in a sudden upbeat tone. "You two go on ahead while I finish up here."

The Fury and Slayer obliged her and left her in peace. As soon as she was confident they would not be coming back, the Shadow moved over to a mirror, intent on examining her figure. Though there were some bruises about her, it was not them that bothered her. In a rather personal act, the Shadow squeezed her bosom together, giving a slight inflated look to her clothed breasts. Seemingly satisfied, the Shadow made her way back outside to join her teammates.

"Yeah. Got her beaten there." She muttered contently to herself...

..."Damn it Shadow, it's six in the evening slow down will you." The Slayer expressed with concern, attempting to urge his teammate to limit her liquor intake.

"Zur Hölle mit dir." The Shadow slurred back rather clumsily. "Ich bin der Verlierer hier, ich werde tun, was ich will."

"Oh well in that case: Vous êtes une clé ivre, et j'espère que vous vous boire dans un tel état, que vous ne pouvez jamais savoir comment manier une lame à nouveau." He retorted.

"Okay guys." The Fury decided to intervene. "Maybe you've both had a little too much, because I swear I have no idea what either of you two are saying right now."

"Relax, would you Fury." The Slayer remarked quite cleanly. "We're all Europeans here."

"Heavily Americanised Europeans." The Fury was quick to point out defensively.

Her teammates dismissed her notion and went back to their correspondents. The Fury was one to feel like a minority here, for while the Slayer and Shadow could occasionally indulge in their native tongues (and quite poorly at that), she felt far more akin to some of the alien races they shared the galaxy with, rather than her country of origin.

The trio finished their little get up, each at various levels of inebriation. The Fury found it a strange pleasure to be the sober one, even though her achievements today suggested that she really should have been the one to celebrate the most. After her, the Slayer followed at a reasonable pace, finding walking only requiring slightly more effort than usual, and occasionally emitting the slight bout of joyful laughing. The same could not be said for the Shadow, however, who was acting her typical drunken Shadow state.

"Well, back to the barracks then?" The Fury suggested pleasantly.

"Wow, talk about being adventurous." The Slayer remarked. "Though I am pretty tired."

"Verdammt you two! I could go on all night like this!" The Shadow slurred hazily, before subsequently falling flat on her back, a peaceful expression upon her face as she fell asleep almost instantly.

"Well, back to the barracks, then?" The Fury repeated...

...It was quite dark by the time the duo of N7 Operatives had returned to their barracks, the Fury struggling to keep up with the full weight of the slumbering Shadow on her shoulder. Finding her quarters, she dumped the Shadow unceremoniously on her bed, before returning to the living area where the Slayer was sitting at a table in a position that contradicted his earlier statement about being tired.

"You're not getting to bed?" She asked, settling herself down into a chair.

"I will." The Slayer said defensively. "I'm just... tired first."

"Right." The Fury remarked in slight confusion.

The Slayer looked off into nothingness. At first, it looked like he would fall asleep right there on the spot, but he suddenly engaged the Fury in conversation, obviously not quite done with the events of the day quite yet.

"Hey Fury." He asked.

"Go on." She replied formally.

"Just so you know. I'm not at all mad at you for beating me twice." He explained sincerely.

"Umm, thanks I guess." She responded.

"But there's this one thing that's been bothering me." The Slayer continued. "And I was hoping that I could get your input on it."

"Yes, what is it?" She asked impatiently.

The Slayer took a deep breath, almost knocking his slightly intoxicated self out. "Where do you see us going from here?"

"...Excuse me?" She asked uncertain.

"Well we're N7s, aren't we? What's there left for us to go?" He explained.

"Oh... right." She acknowledged him, quite unprepared for such a query. "Well, preform our duty, train other N Candidates, achieve high esteem within the Alliance, you know, all that jazz?"

"Of course." The Slayer responded, finding her answer a little lacking and a bit too rehearsed. "But where, do you see yourself, in say a decade's time?"

"Well." She said. "I guess... I'd like to settle down at one point. Retire from all this training and start a family."

"Any potential candidates?" The Slayer asked quite boldly.

"Well, maybe one or two." The Fury responded, her mind suddenly occupied with thoughts of the Destroyer for some odd reason.

"I see." The Slayer replied, seemingly content with her answers. "Well, good night."

He got up quite slowly, finding his form difficult to manoeuvre with his aching limbs and slightly inebriated head.

"Good night." The Fury called after him.

The Slayer had moved out of sight and soon out of mind before the Fury was overcome with tiredness herself and decided to get to bed. As she found her quarters, her eyes were suddenly drawn to an object standing on her bedside table. Moving over to it, she picked it up quite sporadically and examined it.

A photo, a photo of her and her five other Operatives, posing quite triumphantly after they had all just earned their coveted N7 designation. Not in their faceless and emotionless suits with their weapons, but simply standing side by side dressed in ordinary plain clothes each doing their best attempt at a good photo face.

On the far left was the Paladin, who did not seem to bother trying to look accomplished, but rather just so he could get the whole thing over and done with. Next to him was the Fury herself, embracing the Shadow to her right, the two of them seemed to be the only ones who were really giving it their best expressions. The Slayer stood next to them, standing and smiling quite formally in comparison to the ecstatic pair next to him, the same could be said of the Demolisher next to him, who seemed a little irritated by the Fury and Shadow's display. And by her, on the far right, was him, the Destroyer.

The Fury's heart fluttered a little as she stared down at his ordinary beaming face, happiness and pride apparent, but so was control. She traced a finger over the photo, coming to rest over the Destroyer, causing the subdued nerves within her to stir up again. And she knew exactly why.

But now her body was weary with exhaustion, all that winning had really taken its toll on her. So the Fury settled the photo down, got dressed into the appropriate nightwear, and climbed into bed.

She would have to tell him about those feelings at some point. Maybe if she was lucky, he felt the exact same way...

* * *

"Fury? Oh Fury, you awake?" A raspy voice sounded, beaconing the Fury back to reality.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm up." She groaned back, as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly lit conditions around here. "Just, dreaming."

"Oh, about what?" The raspy but quite perky voice went.

The Fury took a deep breath. "Better times." She uttered, before beginning the slow process of waking up.

"Oh, could be my eidetic mind rubbing off on you." The voice went again in optimism.

"I wouldn't take it that far." The Fury remarked, now in a sitting position. "I need a sink."

"Well don't ask me, I can't stand all that water." The voice continued, and the Fury could now make out the figure of a drell that it belonged to.

"Yeah yeah, thanks anyway, Coleman." She acknowledged.

"Coleman! No, Kolemun. Kolemun." The drell declared, visibly irritated.

"Yeah, alright. Kolemun. Now if you will excuse me." The Fury clarified, properly getting out of her small bunk in search of a sink.

It did not take her too long to find one. She would have preferred to take a nice long hot shower, but being in the midst of a military base in a contested system it was a regrettable luxury she could not afford. Splashing the water around her face as best she could, the Fury was now brought back into the world she knew, quite the challenge considering she had remembered the events of her dream with such drell-like precision that she was more then reluctant to leave it. But leave she did, for the bitter nostalgia she was feeling was hardly going to help her fight Reapers. So tightening the fastenings in her suit, and casting her hood over her head, hiding her yellow locks from the world, she made her way back to where her drell teammate was waiting, almost fully prepared for the fight that awaited her.

"You seemed troubled, Fury?" Kolemun noted with a decent amount of drell perception.

"It's nothing. Just brooding." She did her best to divert his attention from her rather sullen mood. "Have you seen my mask?"

"Oh... no." He replied dismissively, but she saw through him too easily.

"Come on." She urged. "What did you do with it?"

Kolemun eventually turned his strange drell eyes to meet the prying Fury's, pulling out her mask from a concealed pocket in his suit and reluctantly handing it over

"It really doesn't look good on you." He added with caution. "Makes you look kind of, umm... furious."

"Well then its all the more fitting then, isn't it." The Fury remarked, fastening the mask over her face, a strange cosy sense about her as the cold steel touched her skin. "Now, anymore things of mine you're withholding. Or can we get on with this."

"No to the former, yes to the latter." The drell replied, and the pair set off for the all-important shuttle that would... shuttle them to their destination.

They found their vehicle in no time, and soon they had hopped aboard, and were off, into the skies that soon became the atmosphere, and then the vast ocean of space.

The Fury sat opposite her drell teammate in initial silence. Kolemun had his hands together, in some deep prayer. Inside her mask, the Fury was deep in some manner of thought herself. It had never actually to her, but the Fury was physically weak; despite her wicked use of biotics, the suit that wrapped around her offered her just about decent protection from fire, but concentrated bursts were something she could never get acquainted to. But this, she already knew, she had been in this war for a good long time by now, so why was now the time to suddenly be expressing concern about her durability.

"Hey Kolemun." She asked suddenly.

The drell raised his head slightly. "Hmm?"

"What are you like in battle?" The Fury asked eagerly.

"What am I like in battle?" He repeated, thinking to himself. "Well, kind of like you, I guess."

"Kind of, like me." It was the Fury's turn to parrot back

"Yeah. Let me see here." Kolemun said, suddenly flipping up his Omni-Tool to investigate. "Ah, here we are, N7 Fury combat stratagem: Lightning fast, like me. Strong biotic potential, like me. Low health and barriers, like me. And... Italian."

"Oh, yeah." The Fury acknowledged, unsure as to why her superiors had to include that last bit, nor what it had to do with a combat stratagem.

"Come mi." Kolemun said, her raspy voice taking on a decent impression of an Italian accent. "As I."

"Yeah." The Fury remarked, defiantly raising her American dialect.

"Heh, maybe I call you: la Furia." The drell said, a sudden awe about him.

"Please don't." The Fury was quick to insist, still making the American in her the persistent one.

"Now why not." Kolemun argued back.

"I don't really... consider myself an Italian anymore." She stated informally.

"Well that seems kind of sad." Kolemun said. "If you will permit it, how exactly did that come about?"

"I just... drifted away." She explained. "After my parents died, I went straight into N7. You tend to forget about your roots a little. Sort of like how the drell had to abandon Rekunna if I'm not mistaken."

"Oh hardly." Kolemun scoffed. "Unless your home country was in danger of succumbing to a severe resource crisis, it's not the same thing. And I should know, I spent some time in Italy. Nice place, perfect for a drell. Well, at least in the nice Mediterranean parts anyway."

"You don't say." The Fury remarked, the vague memories of hot summer days of her childhood pushing their way to the forefront of her mind despite her efforts to suppress them.

"Well, where we're going." Kolemun said. "Should be nice and arid. And we won't have to worry about any Reapers speaking Italian, oh could you imagine."

He finished his talk with a slight laugh, which the Fury could partly indulge in. That depiction of Reapers was enough to deter her usual perceptions about them. She could take comfort in the fact that, despite having a drell teammate that knew one or two things about Italy, there was nothing she had to worry about that involved her former homeland that was far, far away.

Far, far, far away...

The shuttle vibrated around them as it entered the turbulent atmosphere of a planet. The two got to their feet, eager for the chance to finally put their combat prowess to the test. The Fury hoped that the second half of this quartet was composed of slightly more durable soldiers. But perhaps more importantly, no more biotics, for in the presence of a drell who had just compared himself to her in more ways than one, the Fury could detect her competitive nature brewing within her form once again.

The vehicle soon made a full landing, the doors opening, and the Fury and Kolemun soon hoped out. They did not have to look far for the third piece of their team, as the tall armoured figure of a turian was sitting on a chair directly in front of where the shuttle had landed. It may have been quite the stretch, but there was no immediate souls in the vicinity, and the armour that adorned this particular turian stood out quite well, for they had never seen anything quite so fancy before. Plus, the moment the turian had looked up and laid eyes upon the Fury, he immediately made an introduction that she would not be forgetting in a hurry.

"Saluti, bella donna!" He exclaimed in grandiose fashion. "What strange trick of destino should decree that us, two star crossed soldati hailing from the illustrious Italia, should meet here, millions of leagues across the galassia, and do battle with the Mietitori miserabili."

The turian finished his introduction by taking the Fury's hand and planting his own talon upon it in what he supposed to be a romantic gesture. Through her mask, the Fury stood speechless, for there was no masking the loose string of words along with the pretty atrocious accent that his metallic turian voice was offering.

"Well, how about that." Kolemun remarked in something of a major understatement.

"You've got to be kidding me." The Fury uttered, her voice returning to her in a flash.

"Oh so sorry." The turian said. "I completely forgot to introduce myself, ahem. Io Sono Tyderius, del Armiger ventisei Legione."

"Please... stop trying to speak Italian." The Fury said, demandingly and also embarrassingly.

"Yeah, stop." Kolemun joined in. "The words sound a little strange, have you even got the hang of the language yet?"

The turian faltered. "Oh, I'm sorry. I still learning. It's just that, with Earth languages, there's so many of them you see."

"Why don't you over again." The drell suggested courteously. "And drop the accent, you can't do it."

"Yes sir." The turian said, now sounding like an actual turian. "Please to meet you. I am Tyderius, of the 26th Armiger Legion."

"Please to meet you, Tyderius." The Fury introduced herself. "I am Caroline and this is Kolemun."

"Caroline. Caroline? That is not the name I was given." The turian Tyderius noted, opening up and examining his Omni-Tool. "Ah, here it is: Lucrezia Atonella Sollima."

Wow, that was a blast from the past, if ever there was one. The Fury was struck speechless a second time, the amount of knowledge this turian had about her, while she knew so little about him (aside from his name and atrocious Italian accent), was just a little off putting.

They could have gone on discussing pleasantries like that for a good long while, but the pressing matters of the day bested down upon them in the form of another shuttle swiftly descending to them, replacing the one that had arrived in. The Fury had the turian Tyderius did not pay it much heed as they were still in the middle of their conference, but their drell did, and as soon as the doors opened, he hopped abroad.

"Hey guys." He called to them. "I think this is our shuttle."

Tyderius noted him. "Ah, so it is. Excuse me Madame."

He urged the Fury to the side, before, to her surprise, suddenly flew himself right across the short distance between himself and the shuttle, his short propulsion permitted by flaming jets in his armour. Somehow, the sight of a usually slow cumbersome turian suddenly leaping with such speed made the Fury seem a little disappointed in her teleportation spell.

"... I don't suppose you know if there's a drell version of that armour, by any chance?" Kolemun asked quite eagerly as the turian came to land in the shuttle in a neat bound.

"Sorry, Armigers only." Tyderius remarked with pride. "I worked very hard for this. Fury, what's keeping you?"

"Coming." The human remarked before, deciding she needed to make a good impression in the face of those propulsion packs, jumped into the air, vanishing in a squirt of biotics and reappearing right between her teammates, causing quite a reaction.

"I don't suppose you could teach me how to do that at some stage?" Kolemun asked in similar eagerness.

"Maybe." The Fury replied, as the doors to the shuttle closed and the vehicle launched into the air.

"Hang on a minute." Tyderius suddenly remarked. "Shouldn't there be four of us?"

The Fury and Kolemun briefly surveyed their tight surroundings, and found only the three of them occupying the shuttle interior.

"Maybe it's the pilot." The Fury remarked, heading up to the cockpit to see, but found only an Alliance pilot sitting there, flying his craft seemingly unfazed by their perceived lack of a fourth teammate.

"Maybe we're- ah!" Kolemun said, then exclaimed, as he sat down in one of the corner seats but immediately jumped back up, having felt something moving under him.

His teammates observed where he had settled, and initially, there was simply the empty seats lining the shuttle walls. Yet a brief second later, a piece of the imagery shimmered slightly, and to their surprise, the sleeping figure of an Asari manifested right before their very eyes.

"I think we found our fourth teammate." Tyderius remarked, before bringing up his Omni-Tool once again. "Ah, here we are. Coreen Daneris. Huntress. Infiltration. Well, better introduce ourselves."

"Ah, I'd be careful if I were you." Kolemun said cautiously, as Tyderius stepped closer to the slumbering asari. "You don't want to be on the receiving end of an angry Huntress."

"You're right, you're right." Tyderius said after some thought. "Hey Lucrezia, you're a competent biotic, you wake her up."

"What, are you sure?" The Fury asked quite defensively.

"Yeah, I'm right behind you." He said, stepping back and pushing her towards to the still sleeping asari.

"Don't worry about it, it'll be fine." Kolemun said, while still moving back a respectable distance. "And if she does get mad, remember... you are la Furia!"

The Fury turned her mask to gaze upon the asari, a fairly peaceful expression upon her face as she slumbered.

"Err, Coreen." She whispered, gently prodding the asari, but to no avail. "Ahem, Coreen."

Still no use. She turned round to find the pair of turian and drell looking on, in somewhat tense poses. Again, the Fury prodded the shoulder of the thin suit, rocking the asari's head back and forth, but still did she simply keep up her deep breathing.

"Okay, this is starting to drag on just a little." The Fury said, now no longer cautious and simply impatient. "Hello. Asari. Could you please wake up now?!"

Still, her efforts were not rewarded. So, casting a cautious glance back to her teammates, the Fury took a deep breath, grabbed the back of the rigid crests of the asari's head, and promptly shoved her off her seat and onto the floor of the shuttle.

Kolemun and Tyderius backed away from the now awake Huntress, quite panicked by the Fury's bold actions. Her on the other hand, was more then prepared to deal with whatever furious comeback of biotics for her actions. She was just about to speak, but the asari beat her to it, her particular choice of language causing yet another bout of speechlessness in the Fury.

"Dea, che cosa hai fatto? Stavo facendo il sogno più bello proprio in quel momento!" She exclaimed in a tone of immense irritation.

"Oh... Okay." Kolemun uttered silently.

"Ah, bella donna." Tyderius exclaimed enthusiastically.

"You can't be serious." The Fury said in stoic disappointment...

* * *

Thankfully, it was not nearly as ridiculous as the Fury imagined. As it turns out, Coreen the asari just happened to be fluent in several Earth languages, something the Fury had a hard time wrapping her mind around, and strongly suspected that the powers that be had placed her with this trio of Italian inclined aliens perhaps just to see how she would react. It was a strange following conversation to say the least because, apparently, her asari teammate had no idea that she would be fighting alongside this particular ensemble as well.

Eventually however, they had made their introductions, as pleasant as they could make them considering the strange scenario and soon they were discussing battle plans. The only thing standing in their way, was that that could not decide who was in charge.

"I suggest we let la Furia take charge. She is the N7 here, after all." Kolemun suggested amicably.

"Oh it's nice to be held within such high regard." The Fury remarked. "But really, la Furia?"

"What, don't you like nicknames?" He replied defensively.

"Oh oh!" Tyderius exclaimed suddenly. "If we're doing nicknames, can I call you la Furia too?"

"No you may not." The Fury expressed sharply.

"Oh come on, why not?" The turian asked childishly.

"Because I thought of it first." Kolemun said prideful. "And I do a better accent."

"Oh fine then." Tyderius said defeated. "Guess I'll just have to settle with Lucrezia, eh?"

"That's all very good, it really is." The figure of Coreen remarked from the corner of the shuttle. "But what's it got to do with discussing tactics and strategies!"

The trio turned to face her, but at that instance, the shuttle had suddenly descended to the ground, prompting the doors to open. The group slowly registered this turn of events, all standing silent before Kolemun decided to hop out.

"Guess we better get out." He observed redundantly, but prompting the rest to follow suit.

The moment they were all firmly upon the ground, the doors of the shuttle behind them closed shut in an instant, followed shortly by the light craft taking off for the skies.

"Hey, I know this." Tyderius commented. " This is Firebase Hydra."

Hydra was hardly a fitting word when used to describe something, especially when referring to the location around them. They had arrived upon a set off catwalks, off to the left was a tunnel, to the right a fortification, while a spacious yard was below them. They would have further questioned their surroundings, but before they could do so, a voice suddenly ran through each of their radios.

_Area's been compromised. No time for orbital bombardment._

That caused some initial confusion amongst the human, drell, turian and asari, but they could hardly express their concerns, it ran through their radios yet again.

_Enemies incoming._

"Okay is anyone else hearing this?" Tyderius remarked. "Because I could swear..."

"There!" The Fury exclaimed suddenly, pointing at the far end of the yard below them. "Reapers."

Her teammates followed her gesture, and sure enough, a thicket of cannibals and marauders were marching mere meters from their positions. Before the Fury or Tyderius could open the first volley of fire, Kolemun had warped himself into a purple haze and charged himself straight into their midst. The Reaper troops were knocked and blown about in a predictable sense, but if the Fury had been taught anything by her other biotic ally, the Slayer, a simply charge was never enough to deter the Reapers from returning fire in full. Yet Kolemun seemed to be one step ahead, for as soon as his form had remerged from his charge, he promptly aimed and threw a handful of grenades at the closest trooper. The resulting explosion claimed almost the entire group, save for a few stragglers who were now prepared to return fire, but by this time, Tyderius had closed the distance between them in a few propulsions from his packs and managed to take them out before Kolemun found himself an ex-drell.

"Thanks, usually I have to do all the work here." He remarked gratefully.

Tyderius would have replied, but at that instance he felt energy pellets graze into his side. The duo turned to face the new threat, Kolemun darting for cover as he could not withstand such a barrage for an extended period, while Tyderius carefully marched around the battlements, returning fire.

As for the Fury, she did not rush to Kolemun's aid, for her attention was focused on a threat on her life. Turning to her life, she saw a few cannibals moving towards her, but it was the husks in front that demanded she be someplace else. So her light form rushed for the nearest cover, an easy task made only slightly difficult by the cannibal's intense precise aim. Now within relative shelter, the Fury would have started doing what she did best, but the husks who had no regard for personal privacy had descended upon her, forcing her to once again move back, slowly wearing them down with her heavy pistol, eventually taking them and turning her attention to the real ranged threat.

Now she could do what she did best. First the Fury zapped the first cannibal she could see with a sickly blue biotic plague. The Reaper soldier reeled initially from it's effects before resuming fighting, yet it was not long after that before the Fury followed up by throwing a very different biotic projectile that caused the cannibal to explode the moment it struck. Like clockwork, it was blasted back dead, and like clockwork, the Fury's biotic plague hopped from the cadaver onto a living host. Wasting no time, the Fury cast her other biotic trick; a fiery field that fully encircled her, before she abandoned cover and quickly delved right into the cannibal's midst, the field spreading out and infecting them all, Becker she cast a spell and her field exploded, causing her enemies around her to promptly explode as well, in a delightfully deadly display.

She only had a few moments to feel accomplished before she felt the very different fire from a marauder hit her. Turning to face her foe, she initiated her usual line of attack, first inflicting it with another plague of biotics. But just as she was about to follow up with a projectile of blue force, the Fury saw a very different projectile of biotics hit the marauder, causing a predictable explosion, but one she had not initiated.

"Thanks for setting it up." She heard, turning round to see the figure of the asari Coreen shimmer into view. "It can be stretching doing all these biotic combos by yourself."

"You're welcome." The Fury replied, only sort of meaning it.

Coreen faded back into tactical cloak, her shimmering form only visible for a brief period before the Fury stopped paying attention. Realising how vulnerable she was when standing in one place, she biotically leaped to one side, a bit unnecessary, but hopefully it would throw off the Reaper's aim a little bit. After that, she went into a fast sprint, hoping to find them before they found her. And that she soon did, turning a corner into some kind of operations room (which curiously looked like it was of geth make), she found a single marauder behind cover, across the machinery the tall armoured figure of Tyderius could be seen contending with a scarce few troopers.

The Fury quickly disposed of the single marauder with ease, and was just about to assist her turian teammate, before the figure of Kolemun manifested alongside Tyderius, blasting into a cannibal, sending it flying and rendering the Fury's aid meaningless.

"Isn't this nice." He remarked, noticing that they had all disposed of the Reapers. "Fun, simple and meaningful all at the same time."

_Enemies down. Good work._

The Fury or Tyderius did not say that, but rather the voice in their radios, almost like an unseen observer silently watching their every moves.

"And then there's that." Kolemun added. "A little strange..."

_Stay alert. Enemies incoming._

"Now how does he know all that anyway?" Tyderius remarked.

The Fury would have replied, but as if some force was intentionally keeping them apart, the sight of more cannibals, marauders and husks emerged from behind all corners, forcing the three to resume fighting once again.

Tyderius rocketed himself away, Kolemun aimed for the furthest figure and went leapt into charge, while the Fury simply relied on her own two feet and sprinted right through the nearest thicket of troops. The field that shrouded her infected them all with it's biotic taint, which she promptly set about detonating with her powerful throws. Explosions soon followed, and the Fury set about further dismantling the Reapers, yet as she did so, another kind of biotic force in the form of a bolt snatched the last cannibal out from under her furious tango.

"Nice work there." She heard as the figure of Coreen the asari shimmered into view once more. "Keep that up, I'm getting such a kick out of this."

The Fury attempted a response, but Coreen did not wait around to hear it before fading back out of sight, as an oncoming brute demanded her attention. So the Fury simply assumed her asari had moved swiftly on, leaving her this big of a prize all to herself. The Fury kept within the brute's radius, darting both physically and biotically whenever it decided to charge, all the while infecting, infusing and imploding with her skills whenever she could. But just as she was about to aim the last projectile that would ensure it's demise, the brute did explode and drop dead, not from her assault but from another, and the Fury did not have to look far as Coreen once again shimmered into view.

"Okay look here!" The Fury demanded before the asari would fade yet again. "Could you please not do that?"

"Well what exactly am I supposed to do?" Coreen countered. "Just sit back and let it get you."

"I can handle myself." The Fury snapped. "Besides there plenty more of them..."

_Enemies down. Good shooting._

The Fury was started to get just a little jumpy from the voice's apparent omnipresence.

_Stay alert. Enemy is regrouping._

"So, how's your day been?" Coreen asked suddenly in an upbeat manner that was not suited to the situation.

"Wha..." The Fury muttered accordingly. "Well I guess."

"A salarian STG team was shot down. Locate and upload their files."

The Fury's Omni-Tool suddenly lit up, gesturing her to a position not too far off. And not too long after, she heard the all too familiar war cry of more Reaper forces.

"Oh well, race you there." Coreen remarked suddenly, sprinting off in the direction that beaconed to them.

The Fury followed suit, recasting the field around her and darting through a few cannibals, glancing back to throw another bolt. She found the rest of her team assembled around a data terminal, which she could not remember seeing there before, awaiting the oncoming horde. This was not something the Fury was looking forward to, defending a position was more the like of the Demolisher or Destroyer, she having to rely on her speed to get by, but she did her best. Tyderius had set up a small sentry turret that was a far cry from a supply pylon, or the Paladin's shield, but it would suffice.

The Reapers came, and they did their best to fend them off. The Fury threw her biotics projectiles and cast her plagues, which as she found out, was something Coreen was also capable of doing as well. It was all the more frustrating when she would attempt a throw, the asari ended up beating her to it, setting off her own combinations and rising her temper to new heights. So the Fury decided to play the same game, throwing her projectiles when Coreen cast her plague, leading to the same result, and she hoped, to the asari's frustration.

"Nice work, Fury." She exclaimed suddenly. "That's real teamwork right there."

Teamwork. Teamwork? That was hardly how the Fury would have described it. The incoming Reapers were almost secondary by now, it had become less about surviving against the horde, and more of killing more of them then Coreen could.

_Some good work down there._

The Fury almost screamed at the constant interruption by this voice. She was starting to feel like she was being watched.

Coreen and Kolemun promptly shimmered away and sprinted off, relocating to prepare for the next wave of Reapers. Tyderius standing solitary attending was about to do the same, when he noticed the Fury standing very uncharacteristically still.

"Lucrezia, step to it!" He exclaimed. "Incoming."

A faint cry answered him. Not from the Fury, but rather somewhere off in the distance. It was something awfully familiar to the Fury, who was momentarily filled with dread as she recognised it as the shriek of a banshee. That was enough to snap her to, as she darted off, not looking too forward to engaging such a beast.

Yet somehow, she rushed around a corner, and found a rather unpleasant sight. The banshee, flanked by a brute with a few cannibals in tow, who saw her sooner then she saw them, and promptly opened fire. The Fury felt the familiar pain swell about her, as her barriers were blown away and the Reapers dug through her suit to her vulnerable skin beneath. In one quick flash, she had teleported to the side, allowed some brief shelter by the cover before she decided she needed her teammate to deal with this. Running as far from the shrieks of the banshee as fast as she could, the Fury felt brief reassurance as her barriers regenerated, quickly moving on to dispose of a lone cannibal, she found Tyderius behind cover, his sentry turret in the open and pestering what appeared to be another banshee.

"Here we go." She groaned, and set about the obligatory task of helping him bring the beast down.

The banshee was never a foe the Fury wanted to face. But then, the same could be said of all the Reapers, hell, it could be said about this entire war she found herself in. The Fury hit the banshee with her biotics, Tyderius with his assault rifle, sentry turret, and the odd grenade too. The Reaper matriarch certainly put up a fierce fight, but with the Fury's teleportation and the turian's propulsion packs, they managed to evade her predictable attacks, and soon saw her stripped of barriers, armour and life.

"Well I think I did pretty well there." Tyderius remarked. "Oh, and you too, Lucrezia."

"You're welcome." The Fury replied, not even bothering to grow annoyed at his insistent address, and simply sprint away, hoping to find some Reapers to occupy her mind.

Those Reapers she found, in the form of the group she had previously abandoned, now almost wiped out, save for the resilient banshee by an adaptable Kolemun. The Fury zapped the banshee with her biotic spell, when she heard the voice yet again.

_Sensors tell me only one left._

The Fury privately groaned to herself beneath her mask. Something was awfully intrusive about the way it observed their every move. She was even starting to suspect that maybe, it held some sway over the Reapers too, for they appeared to be heeding it and arriving in structured waves that gave them time to prepare. The banshee fell within no time, thanks to their combined efforts, and once again, the Fury heard the voice congratulate them on a round well done, before urging them to be ready for the next.

This continued for a good long time. The voice continued to state when the Reapers were upon them, and the four would fight to the best of their abilities. The Fury kept up a fierce pace, daring through hordes, priming them with her sickness and following up with a painful detonation, except for when she would prime from afar, and Coreen would snatch her kill from under her, much to her increasing... fury, which was only highlighted further by her consistent upbeat tone. And as it turned out, Kolemun too was capable of doing the same, for his charges would often trigger a powerful blast if they hit a target infected by either of the Fury's attacks, though he appeared quite restrictive when doing this, maybe because he could sense the Fury was getting all the more irritated by it.

And as for the one turian who was noticeably lacking in any biotic abilities, he kept his distance when he could. Tyderius had his turret, his grenades and his packs, redeploying with ease when the Reapers were getting too close for comfort.

Still, the four crossed paths only when they bumped into each other, or when a particular tough foe demanded their combined efforts. Or when the time came that the voice had another task for them.

"An experimental cache of canisters was lost in this area. Find the object and retrieve it."

Doing as she was told, the Fury made her way to the location instructed. To her surprise, she found just the canister requested that she swore was not there before. Taking the object on her back, she immediately felt it's weight, reducing her pace to a slow march that did not serve someone of her capabilities. Fortunately, her teammates kept her path clean as she made her way to the extraction point.

It was just as she had successfully retrieved it, that it happened...

Tyderius was the first to find the second object that required retrieval, and he managed to make the slow trek back to the extraction point without the use of his propulsion packs. That's when the banshees came again, their shrieks resonating loudly around the area followed by the image of them beginning their teleporting bounds. Delivering the final biotic blow to a brute, the Fury found one of the banshees, and soon commenced her combined efforts to bring it down, aided by Tyderius. It was pretty much the same as the last time, and just as they were being pushed back, the Fury had finally managed to end the banshee's life with one final detonation, that Coreen thankfully played no part in.

When all of a sudden, the other banshee materialised right before her very eyes, standing tall and menacing over the diminutive Fury, who suddenly felt a strange paralysis all about her, and before she knew it, the creature had clasped one monstrous claw around her neck, and lifted her right off her two feet. Dangling in the banshee's grasp, the Fury felt helpless, finding it impossible to strike up a biotic attack to help herself. She could hear Tyderius cry out as he soon started assaulting the banshee, to little success as it still maintained the Fury in it's grip. Those menacing eyes, devoid of any organic feelings stared down the Fury's mask, before she felt the monstrosities' other claw suddenly pierce her thin armour. Right through the skin did it impale, the Fury only reacting to the pain for a brief second before her world became black and she felt her mind wandering...

* * *

_The Destroyer sat, or rather lay on the sofa, utilising this precious instance of respite rather conservatively. Sure, he could have been doing something much more productive or entertaining, since it would not be too long before he would have to once again encase himself within the T5-V, but after all the combat trials he had put himself through today, there was nothing better in his mind than resting up after a hard day's work. Yet even in this solitude, he could not seem to escape his teammates, however._

_"Ta-Da!" The cheerful voice of the Fury called to him as she made her entrance into the room. "What do you think?"_

_The Destroyer drew his eyes away from the book he was reading to take in the Fury's appearance. It was quite the impression, if the hood and mask were of any indication, the Fury definitely had an intimidating look about her. It was one that regrettably did not match her upbeat tone of voice._

_"It's fine." He stated simply, before turning back to his book._

_"Fine? Is that it?" The Fury repeated irritated. "Come on, you can do better than that?"_

_"Look here, Fury." The Destroyer said, turning from his book yet again. "I just had a very long day. Right now, all I'd like to do is just sit back and relax, not have to think too hard. Sort of like what you're trying to make me do now, okay?"_

_"Oh." The Fury said, taken back and losing the cheerfulness in her tone at once. "Well, I can do that, sure."_

_Without thinking, the Fury approached the Destroyer lying on the sofa, somewhat at peace with his book, not even bothering to look up to notice she was present. She made him notice however, when she suddenly lay down on the sofa right beside him, her frame dwarfed by his, yet that was hardly a deterrent for her._

_"Fury!" The Destroyer exclaimed, looking at the mask that was now exceptionally close to him. "What're you doing?"_

_"This relaxing enough for you?" She asked in return._

_The Destroyer eyed her with suspicion and discomfort. "It's kind of distracting, to be honest."_

_"Go on." She said. "Push me off."_

_Now he eyed her with surprise, and found that such a notion to be suddenly impossible, despite how easily he could have done it._

_"Well I can't just do that." He explained somewhat pathetically._

_"That's what I thought." The Fury remarked, casting back her hood and taking off her mask before resting her head against the Destroyer's shoulder._

_He had to admit, it was quite effective at putting him in a relaxed state more than any book could. The Destroyer did his best to continue reading, but with the Fury almost completely wrapped around him, he was finding it hard to concentrate, and was starting to feel somewhat hot._

_"Fury, why are you doing this?" He said, in an effort to relieve himself of the stress he was starting to feel._

_"Because." She replied. "I like you."_

_The Destroyer groaned in confusion. "Define like?"_

_"Well, like as in..." The Fury began. "Like, as in, wouldn't mind costing up with you on a warm evening after a hard day's work."_

_The Destroyer laughed a little at the somewhat slim excuse she was giving him. "Really. Just out of being such a nice person. Come on, what's going on here?"_

_He turned his gaze down to meet hers. The Fury's deep blue eyes met his with an almost unbelievable amount of warm, honest cosiness to them._

_"I like you, Des..." She stated sincerely. "That's all."_

_The Fury returned to resting her head against his shoulder, breathing soothingly and seemingly heedless of any reactions she was provoking from him. The Destroyer looked down at the Fury resting against him, and promptly took one hand and ran it through her yellow locks. The Fury felt his hand gently caressing her hair, and could not help but express a faint smile. A faint smile that suddenly turned on slightly alarming feelings within her small frame. All this was nice and such, but now she was overcome with curiosity at what else the Destroyer was willing to indulge her in. _

_So she decided to raise her head again to meet his. The Destroyer saw her smile, and was briefly taken back by her bold turn, but could not bring himself to move away or request her to stop. The Fury took one of her small hands, and brought it to close over one of his much bigger hands, which were starting to shake intensely, but calmed down in her comforting embrace. She then drew her head in close with the Destroyer's, their foreheads touching, both quite hot now._

_And that was when she kissed him._

_Hardly something she had been planning to do, but the flow of events demanded it. The Fury pressed her lips to the Destroyer's, enticing him to open up slowly but surely, and before she knew it, the Destroyer had brought one hand around to cradle the Fury's head in his own supportive embrace. And before he knew it, she had brought both her arms around his back, pushing herself further into the kiss that he was more than willing to return. _

_The pair broke apart suddenly, their eyes now linked in a gaze that suggested both fear and uncertainly, but also a bold curiosity for what awaited them. Without a word, the Fury eased the Destroyer onto his back, so that she was now lying on top of him, her arms now at his shoulders, whilst he maintained his gentle hold on her hair. The smile soon returned to the Fury's face, as the thought of how the normally stone Destroyer had obeyed her gesture without complaint. This warranted her pressing her lips to his once more, which he was more than to return, finding a strange kind of sanctuary within the Fury's mouth. It was sweet._

_Sweet and non-existent._

"Enemies down. Good shooting."

The Fury's eyes snapped open in a flash, a million feelings all about her weary form. Through her mask, she could see the blue and grey sky, the familiar smell of water and hard machinery settling into her once again. Just as she was attempting to regain control of her feelings, an accustomed face came into view.

"You alright, sunshine?" Coreen asked, something of an understatement.

The Fury now shot up into a sitting position. She tried to process all the feelings about her, managing to identify the one in her chest. When she looked down, she found her clean and unspoiled armour staring back up at her. The strangest thing, because she could have sworn that there had been a banshee claw digging through it just then. Apparently not.

_Stay alert. Enemies regrouping._

"Well come on." Coreen harkened, offering a hand which the Fury took, getting up to her own two feet, though still quite shaken.

It was at that instance that the Fury noticed a pair of distinct laser sights across the asari's chest. Recognising them as the prelude to a barrage by a ravager, she pushed Coreen to the ground once again, a little hard, but much less than the projectiles that they had dodged by a hairsbreadth. The Fury sprang back to her feet, not waiting to see if her teammate was okay, before she turned back to the more pressing threat, darting the distance between herself and the ravager, her biotic field up in an instance as she pelted the creature with the usual plan. First with her dark plague, closing in to assure her field was added to the equation before blasting away as much as she would allow herself, remembering to take care avoiding the swarmers as they emerged from the ravager's own poisonous sacs, and in no time at all, she had claimed the kill.

"Glad to see you didn't need my help this time." The figure of Coreen remarked to her side.

The Fury turned round to the asari, and to Coreen's shock, both her fists were clenched and ablaze with biotic energy, almost with the intent to punch her. But that she did not, for the Fury was reminded of their surroundings yet again, when a husk suddenly pounced upon her, causing her to struggle with the beast, while Coreen was forced to flee as she saw a contingent of cannibals creeping up, gunning in her direction. The asari shimmered into cloak, not long before the Fury had freed herself from the husk's grasp and promptly ended it's existence with a mighty stomp.

At that, she would have much liked to rest up and call it a day. Yet the group of cannibals not too far off pushed all thoughts of relaxation from her mind, and instead replaced them with a burning desire to stop things from shooting at her. The Fur dealt with the offenders in due biotic course, and was just taking in a deep breath, glad for the respite, when yet another mixture of Reapers were upon her, forcing her to retreat for cover.

"I am getting, just a little bit sick from all this." She cried aloud, as if anyone was there to listen.

As soon as her barriers had replenished, she cast her field yet again and rose to deal with the Reapers for what felt like the millionth time today. They soon fell, predictable as always, and the ever present voice soon beaconed to them once again, congratulating them for another round well done.

"La Furia." She heard, turning her head to look at the oncoming figure of Kolemun. "You alright, you seem a little tense."

"I... I don't know." The Fury remarked, breathing relentlessly as the sweat began to build up behind her mask.

"A pilot was shot down, but his drone survived, recover it and gain access to it's contents."

The Fury heard the voice go, and could not help but groan slightly, as she could not help but start to feel the normally taut muscles in her body cry out in protest. Even her blue biotic manifestations were looking awfully sloppy from their constant use without respite.

"Well, no time to waste." Kolemun remarked, before sprinting off towards their goal with exceeding drell agility.

The Fury chased after him, of course, but found her legs to be awfully unwilling to engage in any more adrenaline filled dashes. She persisted however, and found herself at her destination, along with her drell, turian and asari all gathered round a floating drone that demanded she join in. That she did, and the quartet manoeuvred their way throughout the battlefield, guiding this ever persistent drone with a less then impressive V.I voice. And all throughout, the Reapers dis their very best to prevent them from reaching their goal, pressing the assault and forcing them more then once to abandon the drone to recover their shields. The Fury did her best to maintain the winding path of destruction as she did, but found herself stretched immensely far. Perhaps there was something in that brief state of unconsciousness that had rendered her awfully tired and unresponsive, or maybe she was simply too damn fed up with all this repetitive fighting.

Nevertheless, she managed to keep up with her teammates, and soon they saw the drone to it's destination, followed by the eventual sight of the Reapers swiftly defeated, followed by the voice once again offering congratulations on a job well done. Which was then followed by a warm sight.

_Rendezvous at LZ._

The LZ in question happened to be the very place they had dropped the drone off. Yet even so, there was a universal reluctance to remain in that position for too long, as they soon heard the shrieks of banshees from afar, followed by what they imagined to be the last final assume by the Reapers. Which really made the Fury wonder why they simply had not all attacked at once.

So they split up for the final time, each attempting to thin out the horde to avoid it overwhelming them. The Fury dashed to and fro, making short, almost subconscious work of a few husks with her field, but requiring a little more exertion when it came to dealing with the all too familiar cannibals and marauders. All the while, the voice kept constantly reminding her to make a dash for the rendezvous point, despite her Omni-Tool telling her she still had plentiful time left. When all of a sudden, with just a minute left before their shuttle would be there, she heard the voice announce something very different.

_Teammate is down._

The Fury heard that, and noticed suddenly, that one of the beacons belonging to one of her trio had suddenly gone dark. Yet, this was a thing she was prepared for, but found it all the more shocking nonetheless. So, putting on a brief dash of speed, she took off for the teammate in peril.

The armoured figure of Tyderius lay some distance away on the ground, quite unresponsive. The Fury initially made the final sprint to his position, but one swift barrage from a ravager forced her back. From the relative safety of cover, she could see one of the marauders closing in on the turian's position, and that did not seem a good thing at all to her. She tried again, but now there were two ravagers close by, moving in with the intent of making her join him. The Fury analysed her limited options, not sure what to do; she was now quite far from the extraction point, and to make matters worse, the voice came in once again, alerting her to the fact that now barely thirty seconds were left. It did not look good.

The Fury took once last peek out of cover, and for the split second, she could have sworn that through the thicket of Reapers, a faint shimmering figure of an asari manoeuvred among them. Her suspicions were proven correct, as there was a reassuring sound of Medi-Gel being applied, followed by the sight of a newly resuscitated Tyderius rising to his feet, coming to his senses briefly, noticing that he was surrounded by Reapers and promptly rocketing off in the direction of the rendezvous. His rejuvenation provided a distraction to the Reaper forced, who now focused their attention on his retreating form.

It was all the encouragement the Fury needed, who now realised that her aid had been bitterly rendered obsolete by Coreen, and soon enough ascended from her protective position, and putting on one last display of adrenaline filled agility, sprinted right through the midst of the horde. Right through she ran, causing the Reapers to once again change targets, feeling their weapons dig into her figure, but it was hardly going to stop her. Soon, she had reached the rendezvous, right behind the now visible figure of Coreen, who had clambered aboard their shuttle just after Tyderius, looking back to find the Fury right on her tail, promptly shoving her further into the craft under a hail of fire, before the doors shut tight in a flash, and the shuttle immediately took off, aiming to put as much distance between itself and the Reapers left behind.

"Tyderius." Kolemun started up, sitting comfortable in his seat, having entered the shuttle around the time it had arrived. "Did you intentionally down yourself just so it would make for a more dramatic exit?"

"I assure you no thought was further from my mind." The turian replied defensively. "I simply underestimated that my little sentry turret would be able to hold them off."

"So what would you have done, had I not rescued to in time?" Coreen asked curiously.

"I probably would have died or something." Tyderius explained quite contently, as if such a prospect was hardly as severe as it sounded. "So, thanks for saving me. I owe you."

"Well, I know who will be reviving me the next time I go down." Coreen remarked. "Fury, you've been silent."

She turned to wear she remembered the Fury being, and found to her shock, the N7 Operative lying unresponsive on the shuttle floor.

"Oh... goddess, Fury!" The asari exclaimed in panic, descending upon her teammate, joined swiftly by Tyderius and Kolemun.

Coreen rolled the Fury onto her back, her hooded head staring up unmoving, her face concealed by her mask. Coreen rolled her hands over her body, checking for breaches in the armour, and to her surprise, finding none. So she moved her hands to the mask, carefully pulling it back to reveal the face beneath.

And to the trio's surprise, they found the Fury's face to be completely unblemished, and found that the state of unresponsiveness they had assumed was fatal, was in fact an instant state of slumbering, as the Fury was breathing deeply, steadily and peacefully.

"Must have fallen asleep the moment she hit the floor." Kolemun observed, losing the brief alarm in his state almost at once.

"Ah, I supposed she's earned it. She did look pretty exhausted." Tyderius put in.

Coreen was not so sure, and continued to search the Fury's figure for any signs of potential bleeding. But to the contrary, her barriers had managed to hold up despite the last big barrage of fire. Tyderius picked up the diminutive form of the Fury, an easy feat for his large turian form, and gently lay her down onto the row of seats that aligned the wall of the shuttle.

The Fury silently curled up into a more protective shape, clutching her sides for more warmth, while Tyderius settled himself into the seat opposite, deciding to get a good few precious moments of sleep himself, laying his head back as best he could. Coreen sat next to the slumbering Fury, taking care not to disturb her but making sure she did not make any movements that would send her toppling onto the floor. Kolemun meanwhile, picked up the discarded mask of the Fury, and tucked it deep into a pocket, still hoping that he could get her to forget about it when she awoke, for he preferred her without it.

And as for the sleeping N7 Operative herself. She was already deep in the middle of a dream, a rather sweet dream, but a dream nonetheless. It involved her and the Destroyer.

Whom she imagined, she would be seeing soon...

* * *

**Now then, opinions. While the Paladin was more of a side character in the last chapter, this one's all about the Fury. I do wish I could have gone into more detail with the rest of the bunch, but they just weren't as interesting to write than in the last chapter. **

**Now I have to clarify something that may give the wrong impressions. That whole prelude in the beginning, that was a flashback, as in it actually happened. That brief fantasy in the Fury's mind after the banshee; just that, a fantasy, as in not real.  
**

**_Now _for the future of this here story. Here's the forecast for the next four chapters, without giving too much away.  
**

**9. Much shorter than this, at least by my standards, lots of conflicting perspectives as most of the characters get together again.  
**

**10. A total action chapter, again involving most, but not all of the characters.  
**

**11. No action, lots of development, involving drama and _romance_, hence the addition of the genre tag.  
**

**12. Hopefully sweet, funny, serious, action orientated and peaceful all at the same time.  
**

**Well I've rambled on for more then enough, so thanks for reading if you've read all of this. Leave a response, I really like it when you do that, and I'll see yous later.  
**


	9. All Together Now

And so it came to be, that after much conflict with an entirely different ensemble of companions that would never be the five he had left, the Destroyer found himself once again on the Citadel. It seemed like barely a few days had passed since he had last been here, for there was a definitely familiarity as the shuttle made it's gradual dock into the immense station. As he stood with his back to the rocking wall of the little craft's interior, there was a rising sense of eagerness growing about him, for though he was somewhat reluctant to admit it, he had missed the ensemble of fellow N7 Operatives that he would soon be seeing again.

He wondered what they had been up to since they had parted ways. Considering his own position, the Destroyer considered his little team to be faring well against Cerberus in the fronts they were deployed, and he wondered whether his teammates had been as fortuitous as he had been.

Occupying the shuttle alongside him was the other two human members of his squad; the former Cerberus test subject turned defector Ross, and the biotic bustling bravado filled Georgina, conversing amicably, or at least as amicably as he imagined them capable of.

"And when I'm done with that." Georgina was explaining to the somewhat interested Ross. "I am going to get so drunk, my shockwaves are going to measure on the damn Richter scale. I swear!"

"How nice." Ross replied at a much less tone of elevation. "Sounds like you've got your shore leave all set out. Sorry if I don't share your enthusiasm."

"Damn, Cerby." She said condescendingly. "Why are you so uptight about everything? You really need to lighten up, come get drunk with me?"

"He's probably just tired of you constantly calling him Cerberus, is all." The Destroyer decided to put in. "That right, Ross?"

"Sure, of course it is." The former Cerberus stated. "So please, Georgina. Could you stop with it? I know it's all affectionate, but really."

"Okay, I'll stop." Georgina began. "But only if you go out drinking with."

"You know I don't drink." Ross was quick to reply. "It... reminds me too much of Cerberus."

"You sure?" She pressed him. "You sure you're not just embarrassed that you'll go wild and wake up next to me."

"No! No I'm not." He responded quite flustered. "Not that I wouldn't mind that. It's just, oh, I mean, I umm... I respect you as a person and everything..."

Ross' brief phase of stuttering was brought to a halt when he noticed Georgina giggling to herself, obviously amused immensely by his reaction.

"It's alright, Cerby." She said with a surprising tone of sincerity. "Just messing with you. I'm glad Cerberus didn't force that out of you."

"Oh... right." He said. "Yeah, I'm glad too, hehe."

"Please." The Destroyer pleaded. "Watching you two like this is more then uncomfortable to watch."

"Sorry N7." Georgina replied cheekily. "But please Ross, just one drink. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well seeing as how you asked politely." Ross said. "And used my actual name. I guess I can manage one drink."

And not a moment too soon, as the trio's little shuttle had descended into one of the Citadel's hangars. They hopped off almost as soon as the doors opened, which was followed by them closing just as fast and the vehicle departed for space once again, to answer the call of duty yet for another.

"Shame about that quarian." Ross remarked all of a sudden. "Wish she didn't have to run off on that top secret mission. Was starting to like her."

"Ah, forget about her for now." Georgina replied. "As for me, I got some Alliance girlfriends to catch up with."

"Sounds like fun." Ross said, wishing he had some Cerberus defectors he could call friends to catch up with.

"Why don't you tag along?" The Destroyer suddenly suggested.

"What. Oh no, I couldn't." Ross was quick to reply. "I'm not good around others, and I'd be intruding."

"Nah, it'll be fine." Georgina suddenly peppered up. "I bet they'll be really jealous I managed to bag me a Cerberus defector. Oh the look on Lillian's face..."

"No I really shouldn't." Ross did his best to put up a defence.

"No I insist!" Georgina said, almost demandingly and Ross could see there was no persuading her otherwise.

"Oh why not." He relented at last, before Georgina promptly squeezed his hand in hers and led his reluctant self off.

"Have fun." The Destroyer called out to them.

He watched the eager Georgina with a nefarious look about her drag the less then eager Ross off to whatever business she considered a fun way to spend shore leave. When they had gone, the Destroyer realised that perhaps he should not have been so quick to suggest such an outing to the pair. But that could not be helped, however, as he decided to make his own way off into the station, eager to meet up with his teammates.

But before he could go a few steps, a distinct voice quite close beside him made him jump.

"Aww, don't they look so cute together." A voice that could only belong to a quarian said.

He jumped alright, for he knew the quarian who it belonged to, and was under the assumption that she was a mass relay or two away be now. Yet there, standing in front of him, having shimmered out of a cloak, was the quarian he knew as Freedor'Sefkor vas Neema.

"Freedor?" He asked. "I thought you were going off to the Migrant Fleet."

"Oh I am." She responded through her helmet. "I just wanted to stick around for a bit to hear what you all thought of me, that's all."

"Right." The Destroyer said. "So that means... you were in the shuttle with us?"

"Yeah." Freedor admitted with little shame about it. "But enough about that, don't you think they look cute together?"

"Cute? Who?" He asked, the shock from her sudden appearance enough to make him forget about anything prior to that.

"Ross and Georgina, silly." The quarian explained irritated. "It's so nice to see people coming together in times like this, don't you think so?"

"I guess." The Destroyer replied stoically, his mind concerned with other matters to imagine whether his teammates looked cute or not.

"See, you do have a soft spot underneath that heavy suit." Freedor remarked.

"I never said I wasn't soft." He defended, now irritated from her mentioning of the T5-V, formerly glad to be spending time away from it.

"Oh yeah." She continued. "Okay, moving on. Do you have someone special waiting for you here?"

"What!" The Destroyer exclaimed. "That's a little out of the blue, isn't it?"

"No it's not!" Freedor defended herself. "What I mean is... is there someone, cute to you?"

The Destroyer eyed the masked quarian with discomfort. "That's quite a personal question, Freedor."

"Oh okay, okay." She admitted apologetically. "Sorry for prying, I'm just curious like that. You go off now, have fun, and do whatever humans do for recreation around here. And I'll just sit here and wait for my shuttle."

The quarian made an effort to shoo the Destroyer away, finding some difficulty since he was much taller than her, but he was more than glad to heed her and make a quick farewell before taking off into the station.

* * *

Elsewhere on the station, another N7 Operative was anxiously pacing to and fro in one of the departure bays. Unlike the Destroyer, the Fury had arrived with the intention of greeting the Shadow onto the station, for it was she that she felt the need to see first. Even though she was eagerly awaiting the chance to see the Destroyer again, every time she thought of him, the Fury was overcome with an anxious fluttering in her stomach. The same feeling was not present when she thought of the Shadow thankfully, but instead there was a much more manageable feeling of excitement behind her teammate's return.

After spending a brief but plentiful time with a drell, a turian and an asari, it would be good to see another human again. Her wish was soon granted, as the figure of the Shadow soon entered through the elevator doors which she had been pacing in front of quite intensely. The Fury wasted no time in greeting her teammate with an affectionate embrace, as friends like the pair of them tend to do after so long.

"Whoa there, Shadow." The Fury said, pulling away from her teammate when she could feel the Shadow putting perhaps a little too much effort into their hug. "It can't have been that long since you last saw a human."

"Oh it has, Fury. It has." The Shadow replied. "Just wanted to make sure make sure it's all you. I think I may have forgotten what we look like."

The Fury chuckled just a bit in the Shadow's somewhat childish view. "Well, if I know you. You probably want to get a drink or two, right?"

"You know me." The Shadow replied with an immense longing. "Lead on, would you, it's been too long."

And so it was that the Shadow came once again to the bar of Purgatory. Even though it had much to offer in the way of dancing, it was the liquor that she took away from it. And after spending time away from the substance for more than enough of a long time, she was more than eager to taste something that would make her go to bed easily and make her forget the less then optimal situation she found herself in. It was a particular mindset that was not shared by the Fury however.

"Come on Shadow." She asked somewhat pleadingly, as the two sat down with drinks containing varying levels of alcohol. "I don't want to spend what precious time we have arguing with your drunken self."

"Hey, I've earned this!" The Shadow exclaimed defiantly. "After spending so much time around... turian brandy, which I can't drink. The last thing I want is to have a human beverage in my hand, and have someone telling me I can should watch my intake."

"Alright, alright." The Fury replied. "But please, don't get drunk. You're no fun like that."

"Oh fine." The Shadow relented. "Just this one drink. That's all I ask."

"Thank you for being so considerate." The Fury said, before downing the small glass, while the Shadow slowly commenced the task of drinking her much, much larger fill.

In no time at all the Shadow had transferred all the liquid contents of her tall glass to her mouth, and since she had promised the Fury it would be her only one, the two no longer had an obligation to remain in the club with the loud music and irregular light patterns for company. So they soon relocated to the much more preferable sight of a cafe on the Presidium. Now it was the Fury's turn to be picky, as they sat down to help themselves to a decent lunch, having been deprived of a breakfast in their long treks in their shuttles.

"Bar, then cafe." The Shadow mused as she had decided on a course of action in her menu. "Citadel's got no sense of schedule."

The Fury did not register her, however, for she was far too immersed in her own menu, finding it difficult to pick one of the many choices being offered to her.

"Come on Fury." She pressed her teammate. "I don't want to spend what precious time we have arguing over food."

The Fury looked up at the Shadow from her menu with a smirk of cheek and suspicion. "It looks like no matter where we go, one of us seems to enjoy it far more than the other."

She nevertheless hastened her decision making, and soon the two were dining on good human cuisine that they both realised they had been missing for far too long. The Shadow could not, however, prevent herself from experiencing certain grunts of pain now and again when her previous alcoholic beverage collided with the standard food.

"So." The Fury began, swallowing in order to appear coherent. "How've you been?"

"Well." The Shadow replied, swallowing too. "Fair, I guess."

"Missed us?" Her teammate pressed her.

"Yeah." She stated simply. "Though it's a good change. Nice to spend time away from you and Slayer, no offence."

"None taken. It's nice to have spent time away from you too." The Fury replied. "Feels good to have a new team."

"Speaking of that, who'd they pair you with?" The Shadow asked eagerly.

"A drell, a turian, and an asari." The Fury recited. "They're an okay bunch. Once I got over the fact that they all knew Italian."

"They all knew Italian?" The Shadow parroted back in understandable disbelief.

"Yeah I had a hard time believing it too. I think someone up higher must have obvious thought it would have been really funny." The Fury remarked with some measure of bitterness.

"That is funny." The Shadow said. "Because I got a turian who knew quite a bit of German."

The Fury responded by giving her a look of disbelief that matched her previous statement.

"Well now." She said. "That does explain a lot. Maybe the Slayer got a turian who spoke French. Maybe the Demolisher..."

At that instant, the Shadow took a noticeably sharp intake of breath, followed by some audible panting, causing the Fury some measurement of speechlessness.

"Umm, Shadow." She asked with concern. "What was that?"

Her teammate looked up with a slight look of distress. "Oh... nothing."

"Nothing?" The Fury repeated for her. "Don't give me that, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Fury." The Shadow put up an unconvincing defence.

"Do you know something about Demolisher that I don't?" The Fury persisted.

At the second mention of the Demolisher, the Shadow let out another suppressed cry of disdain.

"Nothing, I don't know nothing about her." She continued. "Speaking of which, you don't happen to know where she is right now."

"No I don't. That's why I asked you." The Fury clarified, growing slightly distressed over the wellbeing of both the Shadow and Demolisher.

"Oh... right." Her teammate simply said, averting her gaze.

The Shadow looked down at her lap, her hands trembling slightly. The Fury observed her with concern, deciding to give her a few moments to herself before pressing her again.

"Shadow." She began. "What do you have against Demolisher? Did you two fight or something?"

"Fight? Fight!" The Shadow repeated back in disbelief. "No, I mean, I hope not. I err, don't know."

An image suddenly peeked into the Fury's mind. It was something fairly obsolete from the past, but now it had some relevance. It was of the time she had last saw the Demolisher: in the shuttle with the rest of them before they all split up. She must have been too occupied with anxiety about their breaking up to notice about something so trivial at the time, but now she remembered what it was the Demolisher was doing. The image of her sitting on the row of seats that aligned the shuttle wall. Or more specifically, the image of her sitting on the row of seats that aligned the shuttle wall... with her arm around the Shadow in a protective embrace.

And of the Shadow, sitting quietly and peacefully in the Demolisher's light hold...

"Shadow?" The Fury began again. "That night before we spilt up. Did you and Demolisher err... y'know?"

She made a rather crude hand gesture that nevertheless got the message across to her teammate.

"What? No!" The Shadow exclaimed defiantly. "Well... kind of. No, not... in that sense."

"Shadow?" The Fury said simply. "Do you have a crush on Demolisher?"

The Shadow brought her eyes up to stare into the Fury's inquisitive gaze.

"Well. Kind of." She admitted quite clumsily.

She turned her eyes away from the Fury's the moment she uttered those words she did not imagine herself capable of saying. To her surprise however, she soon heard the Fury give a hearty laugh, quite disbelievingly but also, quite sincere.

"That's so cute." She exclaimed. "Kind of out of the blue and I have no idea how it came about. But really, good for you. That warms my heart."

"Are you being serious?" The Shadow asked in newfound disbelief.

"Of course I am, Shadow." The Fury replied honestly. "Really, I am. You should definitely tell her how you feel. Maybe if you're lucky, she feels the same way."

"Tell her?" The Shadow replied. "Yeah, I guess I should. I was going to before we split up, but... but I was afraid of what she might say."

"Well don't wait too long to act on it. There's a war on, remember?" The Fury reminded. "We have to value what little time we have left with those we care about. It could all end tomorrow."

"Yeah." The Shadow responded, finding her little speech quite rehearsed. "Okay I will. But you have to promise me something."

"Oh, go on." The Fury asked, eager to hear what the Shadow was offering.

"Promise me." The Shadow began. "That you'll confess to the Destroyer how much you wanna get into his pants."

That she was not expecting. The Fury let out a noticeable sharp intake of breath, not too similar from the Shadow's former display.

"How'd..." She caught her breath and was too taken back to even try to deny it.

"I was under the impression that I was the Shadow here." The Shadow recalled. "I've heard you confess to yourself."

The Fury took some time aside to rack her brain to think of any prior instance when she had confessed of her... feelings towards the Destroyer. And then she remembered certain times when she had... expressed herself physically in what she assumed to be the privacy of the women's showers.

"Oh Shadow!" She scolded her teammate, wrath building in her.

"Sorry." The Shadow replied timidly.

"It's a little late for that, don't you think." She remarked.

"Yeah, best to dwell on it." The Shadow conceded. "So, you're tell him."

"Well I err..." The Fury let out in uncertainty.

"You should." The Shadow remarked with cheek. "After all, we're in a war. We have to spend what little time we have..."

"Alright, alright!" The Fury barked back.

* * *

And in another part of the giant station home to a wide variety of individuals, yet another N7 was returning to the Citadel yet again. And he was doing it alongside the trio of select individuals he had picked up along the way. After a few entanglements with Cerberus, he was still unsure as to whether he preferred them to his human comrades. But if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that inside, he really, really wanted propulsion packs.

"What do you need propulsion packs for exactly?" Tarkin questioned the Paladin for what seemed like the millionth time.

"Have you seen me?" The Paladin asked rhetorically. "You see how I swing that shield like it's nobody's business. If I had the ability to fly, just imagine what I would be capable of."

"You'd be capable of stealing my kills." The familiar voice of a krogan remarked close by.

"Yeah, well, unlike you Ark." He countered. "I would not look nearly so silly on the battlefield like a flying krogan would."

Ark simply brushed the Paladin off with a dismissive hand wave. His hardly offend comrade turned back to Tarkin, still eager to see if the possibility of wielding propulsion packs was a feasibility for him.

"How about it, Tarkin." He said. "Think you could pull some strings, maybe get me a set of those packs."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" The turian reminded him. "You're a human. You can still do all those fancy rolls and stuff. I'm a turian, and these packs make up for me not being able to dodge."

"Oh come on." The Paladin pleaded. "I'm only looking out for ways to further enhance my combat capabilities, surely you can understand that?"

"Even if I was in a position to give these things away." Tarkin retorted. "You wouldn't be my first choice. Ark can't dodge so well, and neither can... him."

Tarkin glanced over to the corner of their shuttle, Ark and the Paladin following. The Superintendent sat complacently against the shuttle wall, not paying attention to the conversation between his comrades, instead blocking out all excess noise to focus on the virtual battle within his consensus mind.

"You know." The Paladin remarked. "I remember back when the Citadel was under attack by Sovereign. There were these geth that could twist their bodies and stick to surfaces. That would be much more useful then propulsion packs."

"Bet you wouldn't be saying that if you had those packs." Ark reminded him.

"Can we talk about something other than propulsion packs, please." Tarkin proclaimed pleadingly. "It's getting kind of obsessive."

"Fine fine, whatever you say." The Paladin replied dismissively.

And not a moment too soon, as their shuttle had finally docked fully within the Citadel. Hopping out in a flash, the trio of human, krogan, and turian were almost about to go their separate ways when Tarkin noticed that the Superintendent had exited just behind them, but instead of following in their wake, he had moved up to a small corner in the wide hangar. Bidding Ark and the Paladin farewell, Tarkin followed after the geth, who was quite concealed from any prying eyes in the corner of the hangar.

"You're not coming?" He asked.

The geth turned his head to register him."It is not our place."

"Not you're... oh. I get it." Tarkin replied. "You're not welcome."

"That is correct." The Superintendent acknowledged.

Tarkin was not sure how to react. He had just about gotten used to the geth's presence, but in the wider picture, the Superintendent was still a geth. And that meant he was liable to either be shot at or cause needless panic if he ever presented himself in public, something the Citadel certainly did not need, especially in this time of war.

"Sorry, Super." The turian admitted clumsily.

"You should not be." The geth was quick to reply. "It is understandable that we would still cause consternation amongst organics. We will remain here until we depart."

"You going to be alright?" Tarkin asked concerned.

"Your concern is unnecessary... but it is appreciated." The Superintendent replied with a hint of regret. "We will contact you should we require... someone to talk to."

The geth bowed his head away from Tarkin, who was quite conflicted about leaving him but respected his wishes nonetheless.

"Well goodbye then." He said.

The Superintendent did not reply with words, simply raising his eye to glance curiously at the turian before turning away.

Tarkin made his way to the bustle of the Citadel wards, quite glad to be free of Ark and the Paladin, but wishing there was something he could do about his geth comrade. He world have likely spent slightly longer brooding but he was put off it when he was reminded of just what business he had here. It was a reunion of sorts that he had been looking forward to for a while. Eventually he came to a place he was quite surprised was still in business: the Dark Star Lounge in the Zakera Wards. A good thing too, for he would have had to resort to spending his precious free time in that Purgatory place. Tarkin was a turian of fine taste.

Making his way inside, the turian was glad to notice that not much had changed since his last visit. A good vibe of music hung in the ears of all, enough to be noticed, but not enough so that it made taking difficult; a brave mixture of all aliens were dancing away with the tune, some getting the hang of it better than others, while more social groups engaged in conversations in the many booths. One of these booths in particular drew his attention, where two other turians sat engaged in discussion. Even after this brief period of time spent behind that suit, it pleased Tarkin to know he still remembered the sight of his own brothers.

"Tyderius, Attacus." He announced as soon as he was right up close.

The pair naturally responded with suppressed enthusiasm.

"Tarkin, figures the Captain would be the last to show up." Attacus smirked.

"And you thought he wouldn't show." Tyderius countered.

"Yeah yeah, whatever." His brother snapped back. "Still, good to see you again."

"Likewise." Tarkin acknowledged, settling down into the booth next to Tyderius.

"We was just discussing human accents." Attacus addressed him.

"Human accents?" Tarkin parroted back, not a clue about him as to why they would be discussing such a peculiar topic.

"Yeah, because as it turns out." Tyderius continued. "My N7 apparently doesn't approve of my Italian."

"Whereas my N7 thinks my German is quite spot on." Attacus said with some pride.

"Fascinating... I guess." Tarkin said, not sure how to respond.

"Fascinating? More like incredibly embarrassing." Tyderius responded in immense sensitivity. "You know I spent two years. Two years living in Florence, I learnt and spoke the damn language and never once did anyone say I was doing it wrong, only to sign up and be told by a human, drell, and asari that I apparently have an atrocious accent and I should just stop speaking it altogether just makes me so- arrhh!"

Tyderius stopped just short of exploding out of frustration. His brothers backed away ever so slightly, for he was fuming profusely.

"Okay okay, Tyderius." Tarkin did his best to ease him. "You obviously very upset over this."

"Upset?!" His brother repeated. "More like- no, no never mind. Let's just drop it."

"Yes let's." Attacus responded. "Let's talk about more relevant things like... umm."

"How about the geth?" Tarkin suggested.

Attacus eyed him with a curious glare. "The geth?"

"Yeah the geth." Tarkin continued. "Have any of you heard anything about them."

"Err no." His brother naturally responded.

"How about the quarians?" Tarkin asked.

"The quarians?" Attacus replied. "Yeah actually I have a quarian for a teammate. Hasn't been telling us anything about what's going on with the Fleet though. Why?"

"Just wondering." Tarkin said dismissively.

"You haven't got a geth for a teammate have you, Tarkin?" Tyderius asked in suspicion.

"Would you believe me if I said yes." Tarkin asked in return.

"No. Probably not." His brother noted.

"Good to know." He added.

As for the geth teammate that Tarkin claimed not to have, he was sitting in the relative comfort of his protective shelter in the corner of the hangar away from prying eyes. If the Superintendent was an organic, he may have expressed some discomfort at his predicament, but then again if he was human, he would not have reason to be in such state in the first place. He was not in complete inaction however, for he still maintained a discreet observation upon allied forces communication channels. This particular stage in space provided a good opportunity to perform the reconnaissance duties he had almost forgotten to do, as his adventures with his organic comrades had put it on hold.

But there was an ulterior motive for the geth to be doing this. Outside monitoring what the many forces of the Alliance, Turians, Asari and the like were up to, the Superintendent was still searching in vain, for any intelligence of sorts that would lend him anything regarding his fellow synthetics that resided beyond the Perseus Veil. It had been long, far too long without contact, and for lack of a better expression... the Superintendent was growing lonely from the isolation.

As he continued his survey of the communication channels, most of them fell short of his attention, and the geth was considering simply abandoning this fruitless task. However, just as the thought nearly reached full consensus, the Superintendent picked up something peculiar, something out of the ordinary. It was nothing geth related, instead it concerned several shuttle docking schedules. Normally this would have been something trivial, except the Superintendent recognised the signatures they were broadcasting. To the untrained eye, it would appear that these were a combination of Alliance and Turian signals, except there was something off embedded within their codes.

Intrigued, he pried further, attempting to discern the true nature of these deliveries, and found himself blocked by more than several firewalls. But being the artificial intelligence he was, overriding was a simply matter, and soon the Superintendent discovered just what exactly was inside these shuttles now making their arrival into many of the Citadels hangars.

And boy, was it a discovery...

* * *

"Well, if it isn't my dear, dear friends." The Fury and Shadow heard, immediately picking up on who the voice belonged to instantly.

"Slayer, is it?" The Fury questioned, turning to meet him.

"The one and only." He announced, finding a seat and bringing it up to their table, sitting himself right next to the less then pleased Shadow. "How you all doing?"

"Fine just, just fine." She responded quietly.

"Well that's good to hear. I was getting worried about you, you know, I really was." The Slayer continued thoughtfully. "Was getting worried that you might have struggled to coup without me to help you out there."

"No I did not!" She exclaimed, having none of his idle banter. "Nice to see you again Slayer, but if you'll excuse me."

The Shadow got up in a jittery fashion and making her exit to who knows where.

"Do you have to keep antagonising her like that?" The Fury scolded him with obvious disdain.

"What?" The Slayer responded defensively...

The Shadow made her way to the nearest elevator having made the decision that the Fury would not mind being with left with the Slayer, who still managed to rise her ire in an instant despite their short break from one another. Pressing the console option that would lead her to the docking bays once again, she patiently waited as best as she could in spite of her fidgety posture. In no time at all, the Citadel had soon ferried her to where she desired, but as she was about, the face that greeted her made her pause ever so slightly.

"Shadow, fancy running into you here." The relatively imposing figure... of the Paladin greeted her.

"Oh... hi you." She replied quite tepidly.

"Going somewhere?" He queried her, stepping into the elevator alongside her.

"... No. Not now that I've seen you." She replied again in similar fashion.

"Oh waiting for me were you. I'm touched." The Paladin said, activating the elevator console to take them to back from where the Shadow had come from.

"So err... how've you been?" She decided to make an attempt at conversation.

"You're not very good at small talk, are you?" He asked back.

"Well just... not around you." The Shadow replied, slightly put off by his demeanour.

"Uh-huh." The Paladin simply sighed in return. "Well, if I'm honest, I've been..."

He was about to enlighten on his relatively intriguing entanglements with Cerberus, but his Omni-Tool suddenly lit up from his wrist, sign of an incoming call.

"Excuse me..." He bid her, before taking it.

The Paladin made the necessary arrangements that the Shadow could not understand whom he was conversing with, for it was a particular individual whose she would have a hard time understanding.

"Super, that you?" He asked into his radio. "What's up... what? Go on... What! Wait, as in... What! Are you sure... Are you absolutely sure? Tell Tarkin, right away. No you stay there, I'll... well I'll think of something. Bye... Yeah, good luck to you too."

The Paladin ended his conference and spent the next few seconds staring at the doors of the elevator. Though he was hard to read at times, the Shadow had no doubt in her mind that he had been informed something very bad was about to happen.

"What it is?" She naturally asked with both curiosity and concern. "What's going on Paladin?"

Her words pulled him out of his daze. He locked eyes with her, and she could tell there was a million thoughts of urgency flooding his mind.

"You ran into any of the others?" He demanded rapidly.

"What?" She replied, not getting him.

"The others, have you seen them?" He said, a little slower but tell urgently.

"Err, Fury and the Slayer." The Shadow uttered, struggling to match his speed. "Paladin, what is going on?"

But at that instance, the pair of them heard a sudden noise like the whirl of something going off, which was followed soon enough by the sound and feel of their elevator coming to a swift and sudden halt.

"Oh no." The Paladin remarked in obvious alarm.

He tried the doors, but it was to no avail.

"Damn it!" He cursed in anger, looking about the place for an alternate exit. "Shadow, think you could get up to that hatch?"

The Shadow looked up, finding the small exit of which he spoke.

"I'll need a boost." She said, noticing that it was out of reach.

"Come on, just be quick." The Paladin replied, kneeling down and placing his hands on his knee.

Realising how pressed for time they were, the Shadow quickly placed a foot in the Paladin's grasp, and used it as a starting point to jump up and grab the emergency hatch on the ceiling. She grabbed with ease, and soon managed to get it open, finding a foothold and climbing out onto the exterior of the elevator, dropping her arms down to allow the Paladin up.

"Now can you tell me what's going on?" She demanded, quite anxiously for the last time she remembered the Citadel being in such a state, it was under assault by a Reaper.

"No!" The Paladin cut her off dismissively, too busy trying to find out where the nearest exit was. "Damn it, the nearest floor still far up. Looks like we're climbing."

"What?" The Shadow said for what felt like the twenty time today, and before she knew it, the Paladin had jumped onto the exterior of the Citadel structure and began to climb up the wall.

Hardly one to back down from a climbing challenge, the Shadow soon followed, easily catching up with, and soon outstripping the Paladin, who faced some difficulty. Soon they managed to get to the next door up, but naturally, since there was no elevator, it was firmly shut.

"Verdammt." She exclaimed, clinging to the wall with ease in comparison to the Paladin below her. "Any ideas?"

Yet at the moment she said that, the doors suddenly opened of their own accord, despite the lack of an elevator. Scrambling out onto the landing in no fuse, she bent down to assist the Paladin, who she could tell was immensely grateful, but kept it to himself considering the pressing nature of the situation.

"_Now..._"She began.

"Hey, you two!" A gruff mechanic voice called out to them.

The Shadow swivelled round on the spot to find… a pair of Cerberus troopers marching over to them? What?

"We're unarmed." The Paladin responded quite calmly, over the speechless Shadow.

"Hands up!" The one closest to them demanded, both raising their rifles at the pair.

"We unarmed." The Paladin repeated, taking a step closer to the approaching trooper.

"Stay where you are!" The trooper responded.

He closed the gap with the Paladin, but just as he was about to bark an order to the dumbfounded Shadow, the Paladin swung his arm, and his Omni-Shield manifesting in a brilliant display and knocking the trooper out with one fell swoop. The other was quick to respond but his brief hail of fire struck the shield to no avail before it soon collided painfully with his helmet, sending him flying a good few inches.

Retracting his shield in a flash and privately thanking his almost paranoid like expectancy to keep it with him in the event of such a thing occurring, the Paladin examined the lifeless Cerberus troopers, taking one of their rifles in hand. In his state of growing anxiety, he had almost forgotten that there was a Shadow behind him, standing complete and utterly dumbstruck in the face of what had just occurred before her eyes.

"What?" She quietly uttered.

"Does that answer your question?" The Paladin informed her, guessing her state. "Now come on, we need to get suited up…. again…"


	10. Dark Chanel

**Was not expecting this to be the dark perilous bloodbath it turned out to be. I might just be pushing it, but this could very well be bordering on an M rating, but that's all up to your interpretation.**

* * *

Not a single soul in the Presidium, be they soldier or civilian could have ever imagined that they would be facing the situation that was facing them now. What light presence C-Sec had maintained proved to be no match for the organised militant force that had taken them completely by surprise. And in no time at all, the efficient squad of Cerberus troopers had all but rounded up the terror stricken populace into a relatively organised group of panicking individuals. Fear was present in all, some of the more reckless had tried standing up to Cerberus, but their protests were answered with bullets and their following silence ensured that no more would consider speaking up to their new overlords.

Well almost no one...

"Listen up people. We do not want to kill you." A trooper addressed the crowd, flanked by two others, each with their rifles trailed on the crowd. "Form a line. You will all stay quiet, and you will not speak up to us again!"

The crowd did as it was instructed, albeit with some difficulty considering that everyone was in a particular agitated mood, afraid of doing something wrong that would spell death for them. The squad of Cerberus troops observed them with emotionless glares beneath their helms, keeping an eye out for any that would disagree with their orders. And sure enough, when the large crowd had contorted itself into a bustling line, one figure stood out, lying on the floor surrounded by a hazy cloud of biotics.

"You got a problem, miss?" The trooper in charge descended upon the woman with bright yellow hair lying in a fetal position on the floor.

"Listen sir." She replied shaking. "I'm not feeling so good here. My biotics don't work well under stress, if I'm not careful, they might start infecting people."

The trooper stepped back slightly from the woman with the biotic field on the floor.

"Just shoot her and let's move on." Another trooper to his right suggested, keeping the grip on his rifle firm.

"Wait no." A different voice behind them spoke up. "Biotics are prime candidates for Phantoms. And I've never seen biotics like that before."

The trooper turned to the woman on the floor again. "Get your biotics under control, woman. Are there any others amongst you with biotic potential?"

The crowd he had turned to was silent, fearful of what special treatment Cerberus had in store for those that were biotically inclined. All except for one man in particular.

"I... I am." He spoke up, trembling slightly, but lighting up his hand in a blue shroud.

Immediately, two troopers pulled him out of the crowd. The trooper in charge turned back to the woman on the floor, who had managed to reel her biotic field in slightly.

"Take them." He ordered. "The rest of you, follow me. And don't anyone think about trying to slip out."

With that said, a larger portion of the Cerberus garrison forced the much larger crowd on, leaving a few but manageable left with the pair of biotics.

"Now move." A trooper barked to them, forcing the defenceless biotics to follow the small company onward in a different direction.

The man may have been inclined to protest slightly, if it was not for the rifle pressed into his back. The woman was in the same kind of position too, though in addition to their rifles, she was struggling to maintain a leash on her biotics that were growing quite wild.

When all of a sudden, one of the Cerberus troopers close to her started coughing, causing him to loosen the grip on his weapon ever so slightly.

"What is it?" One of them inquired.

"Nothing." He quickly responded, despite emitting another wild cough.

"Pull yourself together." The other trooper barked at him, until to his surprise, he too let out a particular nasty expulsion.

"What's going on, damnit?" Another spoke up, before he soon joined them, spluttering in lack of air, forcing the group to stop their march.

"I think it's her." The only other one that was not close to the woman remarked impatiently, descending upon her.

"I'm err, kinda finding it hard to concentrate here." She weakly replied, her voice raspy and flustered.

"Just kill her now, she's too much trouble." The first trooper she had apparently infected let out in between volleys of this sudden influenza.

"No don't do that!" She exclaimed in a panic, overcome with urges to cough herself. "If you do, I won't be able to keep this under control. It might cause an uncontrollable reaction. It would likely explode."

"Well we can't just leave her." Another afflicted spoke up, dropping his weapon and dropping to the floor, spluttering like a wild animal.

This display was soon followed by the rest of the troopers. Their formally coordinated group had now descended into a plague stricken cluster in disarray. The only ones who seemed immune to the woman's biotic pestilence was the trooper who had remained standing, and the biotic man, who they had all but forgotten. The woman was no worse for wear, as her biotic field was starting to ooze from her yet again in a thick and very unhealthy looking cloud.

"Damnit it I will have order here!" The trooper demanded of his company, one of which had fainted from the illness, whilst the rest were slowly coughing up their lungs, bit by bloody bit. "I will have... ha..."

And just then, his immunity soon ran out, and he too let out a tremendous hack that brought him down on all fours. He did his best to fight it, but his vision became cloudy and his body felt numb. And soon enough, the whole ensemble of Cerberus soon completely succumbed to this foreign plague that continued to mercilessly assault their corpses even after they had expired, causing their suits to leak profusely with their red contents that had seeped from their skin.

"Good... god, Fury." The Slayer remarked over the bloody display. "What new tricks did you pick up from that asari?"

The sickly blue cloud of biotics quickly dissipated, revealing the Fury contained within. The Slayer's disgust soon turned to fear however, as he noticed she was standing weakly on the spot, swaying like one swift breeze would knock her down.

"Slayer..." She uttered weakly. "Need... mask..."

The Fury swayed forwards and would have fell flat on her face, had he not responded swiftly and caught her just in time. Easing her gently to the ground, the Slayer found the Fury's eyes to be a dark black, with tinges of her biotic plague still lingering over her shivering body.

"Damnit Fury, not now." He pleaded with her, gently cradling her head.

"Had to... hold it back." She uttered. "To stop from... inflecting you."

"Stay with me, stay with me, Fury." He continued, only to start feeling nauseous himself when blood began to seep from her eyes and mouth down her face.

The Slayer surveyed his surroundings. Far off in the distance he could make out the sounds of conflict, likely between Cerberus and a much more coordinated Citadel defence. He strained his mind to think of where the nearest medical facility would be, even if there was no doctor at hand, it was the only thought of getting his hands on any potential Medi-Gel. Then his gaze drifted off to the nearby Cerberus cadavers, lying thankfully unresponsive in a deep pool of blood. Maybe they would have some medical themes on them that they had forgotten about, but that would require fingering their blood filled suits that would definitely not something he had the intent of doing.

The Fury in his embrace suddenly hacked furiously, her face a bloody mess. Bloody and helpless.

"Don't worry Fury." He said to her affectionately. "You stay here, I won't be a minute. Just hold on. Please."

Easing out of his grasp, he lay the Fury gently down on the floor. Seeing her face like that... was not something he had never seen before. And to think she was this way because of him was, very unnerving.

The Slayer decided to start on the trooper he imagined to be the leading. Managing to stow his urge to throw up, he carefully examined the cadaver, but despite the relatively thorough search, the suit yielded nothing he could attend to the Fury's wounds. Not even an Omni-Tool was present. Abandoning his search of the lead, the Slayer moved onto the rest of the dead assemble, but after encountering the same lack of anything worthwhile.

Behind him, the Fury continued to retch and splutter, shaking her frail form on the floor that did not do wonders to sooth the Slayer's concerns, which were growing ever so dire. Returning to her, he brought his hand round her head yet again, a bloody mess all over her face, but still she clung to life, breathing heavily.

"Fury..." The Slayer began pathetically. "I can't find anything. I... I don't know what to do."

"Slayer." The Fury beneath him croaked painfully. "I'm... scared, Slayer."

He looked down into her eyes, surrounded by torrents of blood. The Slayer did his best to appear assuring, but soon found a single tear relenting from his eye.

"Stay with me Fury." He uttered. "Stay with me please."

Suddenly, his ears picked up a sound of in the distance. A low hum rumbling him that became the longer he listened, and soon, he found a shape to accompany it. Overhead, a single shuttle flew, flying blue Alliance colours, which promptly descended right in front of the Slayer and Fury. This was really something he should have been taking caution over, but with the Fury in the state she was, the Slayer was growing desperate and prayed that Cerberus would not be hopping out its doors. Those doors soon opened, revealing a pair of figures, one of which addressed the Slayer before he could identify them.

"There you are sir!" An oddly familiar female voice went. "I can't believe I found you!"

That suit could have belonged to any Alliance soldier, but the voice he associated with only one."

"Lill... Lillian?" He called out in confusion and despair.

"The one and only, sir!" The soldier called back, jumping off the craft and landing in an elegant bound.

"Lil... Lillian. Help me. Please!" He slowly cried out. "I need Medi-Gel."

Lillian noticed the Fury lying helpless in his arms and understood the gravity of her situation at once. "Roger that, sir!"

She raced down to meet the Fury, lighting up her Omni-Tool and getting to work at once.

"Applying Medi-Gel." She announced. "I'm here, N7."

Below her, the face of the Fury remained a bloody mess. But as soon as the salve touched her infected flesh, its miraculous properties began to show at once. The thick cloud of biotics that was pouring from her subsided, as her flesh began to heal, beneath the stains of blood, her complexion started to blossom again, followed by her breathing returning to normal as life sparkled within her once more. The Slayer observed the Fury open her eyes, a normal blue look up at her saviour, and form a small smile of relief, before she closed them and fell to fatigue, asleep in seconds.

"It's enough for now." Lillian remarked. "But she needs proper medical attention. Help me move her."

New energy sparked within the Slayer after seeing life kindle within the Fury again. He gently took hold of her shoulder, while Lillian took her feet, and soon settled her into the open interior.

"You're not looking so good yourself, sir." Lillian said, noticing the Slayer's face, which looked like it had aged a decade or two. "Why don't you see her back to where it's safe, we'll take over from here."

"Are you forgetting who the N7 here is, Lillian?" He replied formally.

"Ah... yes sir." She stuttered back. "I was simply suggesting, sir."

"N7?" The other Alliance soldier next to the Slayer suddenly said. "N7!"

"Ease off him, Georgina." Lillian affirmed.

Georgina may have had her face covered up by armour, but the Slayer could tell she was struggling to stay professional here.

"You're right, Lillian." The Slayer turned, ignoring Georgina to his left. "I'll... I'll get suited up. You're better off going that way, that's where Cerberus took civilians."

"Roger that, sir." Lillian replied, saluting him. "Georgina, you coming?"

"Damn right I'm coming." The soldier boastfully proclaimed, leaping off the shuttle to join her comrade.

"Then good luck to you both." The Slayer told them, before stepping off the shuttle too. "Oh and one more thing, Lillian."

"Yes si-." She began, only to be struck speechless when the Slayer wrapped both his arms round her in an immense hug.

"Thank you." He muttered. "Thank you so much. I can't tell you how much I owe you."

He let go just as sudden as he had hugged her, imagining that Georgina looking on disapprovingly.

"... Thank you, sir." Lillian weakly replied, quite overwhelmed.

The Slayer got back into the shuttle, bidding them a final wave of farewell before turning to inform the pilot of the recent developments, leaving the two soldiers alone as the shuttle soon closed its doors and flew off to relative safety.

"Well then, pretty Lily." Georgina said of her comrade. "Let's get to it... N5."

"Stop wasting time and move on." Lillian demanded of the N6, prompting the two of them to hurry off in the direction of Cerberus.

* * *

Only as few hurried paces forward and the two found evidence of their opponent's presence. One Engineer had already set up a turret whilst a small squad of soldiers were doing their best to press the assault on a pinned group of C-Sec officers.

"Turrets! I hate turrets." Georgina snarled upon the sight of the contraption.

"Not a problem for me." Lillian remarked, taking out a grenade and tossing it with near accuracy at the turret. "Now I- wait, Georgina!"

The frag grenade shattered into a fiery blast upon the turret and it's nearby Engineer. Georgina obviously took it as a sign that it was damaged enough to allow her to charge, leaping into a cloud of blue and smashing into the turret with great satisfaction. The turret survived that, but it did not survive the following shockwave, which promptly shattered it and send the Engineer flying a good few meters. By now, the squad of Cerberus turned to face the biotic foe right behind them, but Lillian soon moved up to offer support to her comrade and they soon fell in due haste.

"Come on, give me a real challenge!" Georgina shouted at nothing in particular.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Lillian asked worryingly.

"Course I am." Her comrade replied swiftly. "Now come on! Times wasting."

And with that, she promptly took off, not even bothering to check up on the group of officers they had recuse. Lillian attended to them, but understanding how likely it was that Georgina would quickly charge into more trouble than she could handle, she made her attendance brief, saying only a few words before she too ran off on her tails. She didn't take long before she rounded a corner and was knocked off her feet by Georgina, who fell to the ground with nothing to support her.

"Damn it, what'd you get into this time?" Lillian irritably asked before her query was answered by the edge of a Phantom's blade cut against her armour, sending her too, to the floor.

The Phantom was quickly upon her with her sword, intending to finish the job. But by that time, Georgina bounded back to her feet and pummelled the Phantom with a biotic fist, not enough to knock her off her feet, but enough to prevent her from descending upon Lillian.

Her fists however, despite packing quite the punch, were hardly a match for the Cerberus fatale's melee blade, which soon retaliated, slicing at her bulky armour that actually managed to make Georgina grunt and stagger, caught quite off guard. The Phantom soon followed up by striking her blade with intense precision, almost stabbing the stunned soldier right through her armour and into her heart. Georgina attempted to back up, finding it easier to deal with at a distance, but she did not possess the Phantom's agility, and soon found herself on the reviewing end of another painful sword swing, toppling to the ground yet again. The Phantom pounced on her, raising her blade to deliver the killing blow, and...

Fell to the ground right alongside Georgina, a bullet right through her helmet from the newly revived Lillian.

"Good job, pretty Lily." She remarked, hopping to her feet in no time.

"If you keep thundering off like that, I'm not going to mange to keep up with you to pull you out like that." Lillian scolded her with immense disapproval, despite saving her life barely seconds ago.

"Yeah yeah, sorry." Georgina replied, quite sarcastically.

"Now we- ah!" Lillian was about to say, before she felt one powerful bullet collide with her armour at dizzying painful speeds, knocking her shields out in an instant.

She fell down, her vision clouded by the pain, while right in front of her, the legs of Georgina suddenly transformed into a cloud of biotics, and she felt the soldier charge right past her. Whatever she had charged at, Lillian did not know, as she struggled to get back to her feet, the pain subsiding as her shields sprang back to maximum. Turning round to discover the source of her assailant, she could make out Georgina in the distance, easily disposing of a Nemesis who proved no match against her in such close quarters.

"Now I know what you said about thundering off." Georgina said to her once she had caught up. "But if you think I was just going to sit here and patiently let myself get sniped, you've got another thing coming."

"Alright, alright." Lillian said, forgiving her disregard for saving her from another painful bullet.

"Where are we anyway?" Georgina asked suddenly, examining their surroundings.

Lillian surveyed too, and found them to quite high up, at least high in the Citadel geometry sense. Just ahead of them stood ledge. Moving closer, they found this ledge to look far and wide unto the Presidium grounds, far down they could see faint flashes of fire as battles raged on. They could have probably descended down to join the fight, but that would have meant jumping off the ledge to a sure death. At least, that's what Lillian thought.

"If we wanna get down there, we better get moving." She said, turning away from the view only to stop when she noticed Georgina still behind her.

"Who says we have to take the long way down." She remarked quite maliciously.

Lillian observed the drop and suddenly felt a sense of dread grow within her.

"What are you thinking?" She asked.

"I'm thinking." Georgina began. "I'm thinking a good biotic barrier might cushion it."

"But I'm not a biotic." Lillian remarked.

"Oh I don't think that should be a problem." Georgina replied, laughing a little and extending her hand, a blue aura covering it.

"Umm..." Lillian stuttered. "Are you sure."

"Come on. Surely you've done it before." Georgina replied, the blue aura around her hand stretching to envelop her whole body.

"Well, once or twice." Her reluctant comrade replied quietly.

"Yeah yeah, just get over here. I promise it'll be painless." Georgina insisted.

Lillian looked at her offering hand, then she looked at the huge drop in front of her. Then back to her hand, then to drop again. "Well... okay then."

With immense hesitation, she took the offering Georgina's hand, before she was thrust right into the biotic barrier that enveloped her comrade. It was a rather comprising position for her to be in, but she suddenly found herself preferring it to the drop ahead.

"You promise?" She asked desperately.

"I promise... just as long as you don't scream." The biotic replied.

"Just as long as I don't..." Lillian began, but at that moment Georgina had leapt off the ledge.

It suddenly dawned on Georgina that she really, really enjoyed this. Feeling the wind fill her bulky armour with chilly currents as she plummeted was a most enjoyable experience. The same could regrettably not be said of Lillian clinging to her for literal dear life, and screaming all the way. As they neared the ground, the figures engaged in the firefights became clearer. Concentrating all her biotic energy, she glided over so they were right over the unsuspecting Cerberus troopers, before she forcefully dived with all her might, dropping right into their midst, slamming into the ground with immense force as her biotic barrier exploded in a pulverising shockwave, sending the unsuspecting troopers flying in all directions.

Not one to waste her surprise orbital bombardment, Georgina leapt after what little remnants of Cerberus that had survived her, striking with fists, charges and shockwaves. In no time at all, she completely decimated those that had remained, and found it immensely satisfying that even the Phantoms had not managed to counter her aerial strike with their acrobatics.

"And that was all without firing a single shot." She boasted, standing triumphantly over her biotic carnage. "You alright, pretty Lily?"

Lillian lay on the ground, right where she had thundered down with her, moving ever so slightly. Slowly she managed to get to her feet, standing for only a few seconds before she fell into Georgina's waiting arms.

"Never... again." She muttered.

"Georgina, that you?" A voice spoke out suddenly.

Georgina turned to face it, and found herself in front of another Cerberus trooper. Except, he was not a Cerberus trooper.

"Ross?" She asked quite dumbfounded. "That you?"

It certainly was, and to his right another figure emerged from cover. This was a tall figure, clad in a very imposing suit of armour, but it was one she happened to know as well.

"So in addition to charging, you can also perform biotic aerial bombardments. And I'm the N7 here?" The Destroyer remarked quite dumbfounded himself.

* * *

Round a corner, the Shadow cautiously slid around, keeping her form to the wall as to blend in with the light shadows as best she could. True, she would have much preferred it if she had her trusty tactical cloak with her, but some part of her actually liked the challenge that this different course of action provided her.

Coming up to the end of an alley, the Shadow peeked around another corner, and found a surprising sight. A pair of Cerberus troopers appeared to be interrogating a quarian of all people. What surprised her even more was that she actually knew who this particular quarian was.

"What are you, hmm?" One of the troopers drilled him roughly. "A Citadel stray, or a Fleet deserter?"

"Neither, I'll have you know." Hans responded quite bluntly despite being at the mercy of these two troopers. "All that happened was I settled down for a quick nap before my shuttle arrived, and now I find I've been rudely awakened by the stupidest pair of troopers I've ever had the misfortune to come across."

The trooper was hardly about to take such an insult, and delivered a punch straight to the quarian's gut. Hans doubled over, spluttering through his mask, but still he continued to talk back to them.

"Errgh, ya bosh'tet." He grunted bitterly. "You're an awful brave one when taking advantage of an opponent's weak spot like that."

The trooper simply followed up with another jab, this time aimed at Hans's helmet. The Shadow felt wounded herself to see her teammate in harm, but could not determine how to take out the troopers without them simply finishing the quarian off.

"Why are you here?" The trooper demanded, taking out his gun and pointing it at Hans' head, though that was quite obsolete since his partner had already been doing the same throughout the whole ordeal.

"I can understand that Cerberus might be interested in just what the quarians would be up to." Hans responded quite formally. "But you know, I was just on my way to ask them. Why don't you tag along, you might learn something yourself, eh?"

The trooper gave his reply in the form of another jab with his fist. "Damn this, we're wasting our time here."

"But you know who would be more than willing to indulge you?" Hans spoke up suddenly.

"What?" The trooper replied baffled.

"How about a nice warm member of the Blood Pack." The quarian replied.

The trooper would have likely responded, but at that time, he felt something incredibly sharp and incredibly hot dig into his shoulders, before it retracted and swung inwards, cleaving his head straight from his neck. His companion darted his rifle to his right, but the sharp hot blade immediately sliced into his own suit, cutting through to his vulnerable organs in a matter of milliseconds, and he doomed joined him in death.

"Cupcake, do you have to be so messy?" Hans asked, his suit splashed with several pints of blood from both troopers.

The vorcha stood before him, balancing himself atop the corpses of the two Cerberus troopers, and simply laughed in his manic cackle at the idea that it his execution could have been... executed any less bloody.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything." Hans continued, getting to his feet with some difficulty, considering his former treatment.

At that instant, the Shadow decided to make her presence known.

"Hans! Cupcake." She exclaimed quite recklessly, considering that Cerberus could still be near.

The pair noticed her, as she drew near, but before Hans could make a formal reintroduction, Cupcake let out a bloody snarl and leapt in her direction with malice, raising his Omni-Blades, and had them just inches away from her face before he realised that her face looked quite familiar.

"You... You, err." He growled with vague curiosity holding back his urge for more blood. "You're not Cerberus!"

"That's right... I'm not." She replied, a little breathlessly since his blades were staring her down. "You know me right?"

"Know... know?" The vorcha replied, subtracting his blades with a curious glare. "You are... Schatten."

"Yes I'm... Schatten." The Shadow responded, finding it quite odd to be addressed as such.

"Yes, with the funny helmet." Cupcake replied, cackling away as he remembered.

"Excuse me. Funny helmet?" She replied now irritated by his disregard for her appearance.

"Yeah, it was a pretty funny helmet." Hans joined in by now. "You look better without it, I think."

"Oh do I?" She said mockingly. "Well as it turns out, I was just on my way to go get my funny helmet. But if you would prefer I go without, all defenceless and unable to contribute to the fighting."

"Alright, alright." He said. "You on your own?"

"That's right." She responded. "I was following someone else. But we got separated."

"Uh-huh." Hans remarked. "Alright then, we'll go get your funny helmet, then we'll go find your friend, right."

"What, just like that." She said. "Weren't you in the middle of something back there?"

"No." He said.

"No?" She asked.

"No." Hans repeated himself.

"So how did you end up with those troopers?" She pressed him.

"... I fell asleep." He replied weakly.

"You fell asleep?" She went.

"That's right." He confirmed.

"Did you know Cupcake was going to come along and rescue you?" The Shadow continued.

"Yes." Hans said.

"Yes?" The Shadow went. "How long were you asleep for?"

"A while." He explained.

"And was Cupcake there when you woke up?" She asked.

"Well no." The quarian divulged.

"So how did you know he was going to show up and rescue you, then?" She said.

"Because it was part of the plan." Hans continued.

"You planned to fall asleep and get caught by a pair of troopers only for Cupcake to take them out anyway." She explained.

Hans briefly contemplated his response. "Yes."

"Yes?" The Shadow parroted back in utter confusion. "Why would you even..."

"We are wasting time!" Cupcake suddenly and loudly exclaimed. "Let's go kill some Cerberus now!"

"Quite right you are Cupcake." Hans quickly acknowledged. "This way, is it?"

The two of them quickly raced off in a direction they assumed led them to Cerberus. The Shadow only stood in her own thoughts for a while longer, trying to understand what exactly they were doing here, before she sprinted after them, catching up in no time, thanks to her inherent athletic build.

"Where are you two going?" She asked as they ran along the long corridors of the ward.

"Where you're going." Hans replied, panting heavily. "The N7 Armoury. That's where you'll get your funny helmet."

The Shadow did not have the time to question this spontaneous play of events before they soon arrived on an overlook that... overlooked their destination. The N7 Armoury, or what was left of it, was deeply contested between Cerberus invaders forces and Alliance defenders. The trio had arrived at the rear of the Cerberus horde, and while Hans and the Shadow looked held back, for they were deprived of any weapons or armour, Cupcake, armed with his blades, flamethrower, grenades and bloodlust immediately dived off the ledge and into the fray, wisely striking a Guardian in his unprotected rear, causing his shield to drop and his comrades to turn to acknowledge their invader.

But if there was one thing the Shadow understood about her vorcha comrade by now, it was that she almost felt pity for whomever happened to be on the receiving end of his arsenal. Maybe Cerberus had learned this lesson too, for the invading garrison included amongst simple cannon fodder, an Atlas, several Guardians, and a few Phantoms. Cupcake did his best, he really did, slicing and burning what exposed metal plating he could get at, but the Atlas packed a particularly nasty punch, the Guardians proved most defiant behind their shields, and the Phantoms could just as easily match his agility.

So he found himself retreating, right back to the cover where Hans and the Shadow lay in wait.

"It's. Too. Much!" He exclaimed, his whole body on fire and gushing copious amounts of blood.

They did not have time to respond before a Phantom suddenly hopped over their cover and started engaging the vorcha, intent on finishing the job. But in a one on one fight in relative cover, Cupcake had swiftly regained the urging for blood he had lost, and easily managed to outdo the Phantom's blade with his blades, slicing her to metal ribbons in no time.

"Never mind." He said, before leaping over cover and engaging the horde once more.

"I just don't understand him sometimes." Hans remarked.

The Shadow did not reply. Her gaze had drifted over to the Phantom's blade that lay discarded once she had been bested by Cupcake. Without realising it, she found herself crawling over to the weapon and picking it up, giving a few practice swings. It handled almost like her one true weapon did, in fact they might have even been forged from the same steel, and to her surprise, she found herself standing up, facing the battle beyond the ledge.

"You can't go out there." Hans protested, guessing what she was about to do. "You haven't got any armour nor an intense healing factor. You'll be shredded."

"Hans." She replied simply. "Have a little faith."

And with that, the Shadow gracefully leapt off the ledge, down to join her vorcha in battle.

Like a gazelle, she swept down the battlements to the nearest Guardian, too focused on Cupcake to notice the sword delve right through his exposed neck. The Shadow did not stick around, the moment she felt the imposter's sword go deep enough, she withdrew it in a flash, the Guardian falling down dead while she leapt to the next target, a simple trooper who had been lucky enough to survive Cupcake's initial assault, but not lucky enough to survive the Shadow's contribution. And just as soon as she felled him in one powerful blow, she hopped up onto a ledge and dived right into another.

By that time, she was well within thick of the waning Cerberus invaders. Though the Guardians did their best to counter both Cupcake and the Shadow, they could not meet both with their shields, and often exposed themselves to one or the other. The Shadow was certainly making at least one dizzy, for she simply refused to stay in one place for any longer then a second, the lack of armour or cloak putting her at quite the fragile position indeed. After a little fighting and a lot of dodging, she had managed to provide enough of a distraction that Cupcake and the defenders had managed to whittle the Cerberus forces down to the lone Atlas, which quickly fell too, now that it was no longer flanked by lesser troopers.

The Shadow, seeing that the damage was done, finally allowed herself a break, coming to a halt from all that evading and promptly fell right down on her knees, an incredible exhaustion all about her. As for her vorcha teammate, he was naturally saddened by the fact that there was no more Cerberus to kill, even if it was obvious he was outmatched by that last skirmish. Hans, seeing that it was now safe to proceed, strolled quite amicably down the ruined battlements to the Shadow.

"You alright there?" He queried.

The Shadow struggled to answer him, her entire body covered in sweat with her legs feeling like they were about to fall off.

"I'm just fine." She managed to cry out, using as little breath as possible to formulate a reply.

"Well, as much as I hate to say it, I'm sure Cupcake had it under control." Hans said. "You really just risked your life for your own pride there."

"Is that so?" The Shadow asked, quite clearly. "Why don't we get another opinion on that? Oh Cupcake!"

The vorcha heard her call, and swiftly dashed across the field to answer.

"Did I assist you there?" She asked him. "Did I provide a necessary distraction that allowed you to manoeuvre around those shield bearers and take them out, hmm?"

Cupcake paused deep in thought for a second, before he had an answer for her. "I did not know you were even fighting."

"Excuse me?" She asked quietly.

"You see." Hans picked up. "You really could have just stayed back here with me and not needlessly risk your life just to prove how good you are with a sword."

"You what?" The Shadow barked, growing quite irate.

"Yeah, Schatten!" Cupcake exclaimed. "You stay back and let the expert handle it. I don't need a stupid sword."

The Shadow was finding it hard to formulate a response, through her increasingly rising temper.

"Exactly." Hans continued, obviously enjoying how much he was prodding her. "I mean, no offense towards your capabilities with a blade, you're very good. But the last time quarians relied on melee weapons, we didn't need to wear suits."

"Yeah, silly Shadow Schatten." Cupcake joined in.

"But... what about you with your claws." The Shadow desperately tried to defend her peculiar choice of weapons.

"Sure, but…" Hans replied. "It's not like that's all Cupcake does, he got other capabilities that supplement those Omni-Blades."

"Yeah, burning and bombs." The vorcha remarked with pride. "Not just dumb sharp blade."

"It's monomolecular!" The Shadow expressed insistently.

"Sure, but it also has nonlethal fire." Hans retorted. "I mean really? What kind of genius design is that?"

"Oh… you." She uttered weakly, her voice growing faint. "You… bullies."

And before she knew, the Shadow could not hold it in no longer, and tears began to pour freely down her face as her "teammates" continued to mock her profession.

"Oh… Keelah." Hans said worried.

"Ah, crying! No, no crying." Cupcake snapped, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "Stop Shadow Schatten."

"I can't help it, I'm only human!" The Shadow snapped through the tears, her tone a mix of deep sadness and immense anger.

"Alright, alright!" Hans snapped, gripping the Shadow's shoulders. "Okay, listen to me. I'm sorry."

"Shut up!" The Shadow barked, throwing his arms off her. "You don't mean that, you just you just want me to stop."

"Oh, right." The quarian replied meekly. "I don't know how to handle this."

"Just… give me a moment, alright." The Shadow responded breathlessly through her red face.

"Arrgh! Listen Shadow Schatten!" Cupcake exclaimed suddenly, gripping the Shadow in a similar fashion to Hans. "It's obvious swinging swords is important to you. In that case, sorry we acted mean to you…"

"You mean that?" The Shadow said with a hint of snide doubt beneath her crying.

"Yes, sorry for not realising how serious swords are to Shadows." The vorcha continued. "Now that I know, we won't mock you anymore. Right quarian?"

"Oh err, sure." Hans replied abruptly.

"See, you okay now Shadow Schatten?" Cupcake asked quite sincerely, or as sincerely as a vorcha could ask.

"Well, I guess when you put it that way." The Shadow said, recovering her voice. "Everything's just fine."

"Good, now come on!" Cupcake quickly exclaimed, shaking the Shadow. "Let's go kill more Cerberus."

"Just let us get our equipment first Cupcake." Hans cut in. "Then, we will go and fight with our sniper rifles and flamethrowers and swords!"

"Keelah se'lai!" The Shadow exclaimed in a good attempt at shaking off her prior state of woe.

"…yeah." Hans responded much less enthusiastically.

* * *

As for the Paladin, he had been separated from the Shadow, not by choice, but simply because she was much more adapt at slipping away from unwanted attention. That attention manifesting in the form of a large squad of Cerberus troopers, who were prevented from perusing the Shadow by the Paladin, who happened to have far more proficiency than her when it came to bunking down in one solid place and letting his shield do the work. Unfortunately for him, Cerberus had shields too. And unlike his, they were the type that could not be retracted at will, and slowly allowed those without to press up in their assault upon the N7.

But every time his shield succumbed to too much fire, the Paladin simply performed an evasive combat roll and redeployed it again, at full strength. And when any nasty troopers got close, he would strike at them with a nasty uppercut of Omni-Shield goodness, followed by a burst from his display of Omni-Tool powers. This was not how a combat scenario would play out for the Paladin, but he was without his secure armour, and thus was acting incredibly conservative, not giving them a single moment to hit him when his shield was down.

This went on far longer than the Paladin had patience for, having abandoned any hopes that Cerberus would be running out of ammunition. Now his arm was straining immensely from the constant pressure of maintain his Omni-Shield. Eventually, he would not be able to withstand them any longer, in addition to slowly running out of space to retreat back to. The Guardians, with their metal shields, were slowly descending on the Paladin, who was entertaining the idea of retreating altogether, until as luck would have it, reinforcements arrived, in the form of an angry vorcha slamming into the Guardian's exposed rear with a fury that only their dead comrades knew. A few turned to face the intruder, but were cut down faster than they could react to him. When only a few were left standing, did the Paladin finally open his shield, joining the fray but was rendered quite redundant by the vorcha's exceeding display.

"Well would you look at that." He heard the familiar of the Shadow go as she manifested out of thin air right beside him. "I honestly did not expect you to survive for so long."

"Have a little faith." The Paladin reminded her. "I take it this is yours."

"If by "this", you're referring to Cupcake." She said, turning to the vorcha. "Then yes."

"Cupcake?" He questioned.

"I just saved your life." Cupcake announced with pride. "Don't you forget it."

"I'll try not to." The Paladin noted, before turning to the Shadow. "Have you got my armour?"

"Well obviously." She replied. "Hans!"

The Paladin turned to where she was glancing, to see the quarian bringing up the rear, carrying his much needed gear. The trio of Shadow, Cupcake and Hans gave him the privacy he needed to get into the suit he never imagined he would be getting into today. After they were all grouped together in their armour with their weapons, a course of action had to be decided.

"So, what's the plan, N7s?" Hans asked them eagerly.

"Umm... Paladin." The Shadow asked him, quite in lacking of ideas herself.

"I take it none of you have no idea what's going on?" He asked the duo of quarian and vorcha.

"Well... no." Hans admitted quite downtrodden.

"Who cares?!" Cupcake blurted out in impatience. "Just where can we go where there's more Cerberus?"

"Well if that's all you're concerned about." The Paladin remarked. "Then, C-Sec would be the likely place."

"And that's... which way?" Hans asked, lighting up his Omni-Tool.

The rest of them did the same; despite the Paladin and Shadow being more then familiar with the station, the confusion of the battle around them had rendered them somewhat diluted of their surroundings. Eventually they got their bearings, and they were soon off. It was not long before they ran into more Cerberus, marching onwards in the same direction. Despite their previous skirmishes, the Paladin, Hans, and the Shadow were now more than eager to engage in a fight now that they were properly suited up. That is if they could have engaged faster than Cupcake, who seemed to have a constant bloodlust that only waned when he was out of combat.

By now, the Shadow had her fair share of battles alongside the vorcha, so she had by now adjusted to the type of carnage he was capable of when in a frenzied state. The same could not be said of the Paladin, who was a little more than surprised at the sheer levels of endurance he was displaying when engaging Cerberus. The only foes that proved a match for him were the Guardians, but then they proved a match for anyone in front of them. As for the rest, there was no discrimination, for the vorcha would unleash a torrent of pain upon them, sustained by the insane levels as which his body constantly regenerated the lost flesh and blood.

By the time they had dismantled the horde into a red mess, the Paladin felt like making the vorcha an honorary N7, all those hard months training be damned.

"Well, Cupcake." He asked the vorcha. "Is there anything out of your limits?"

Cupcake paused to think for a minute. "Atlases. I hate those Atlases!"

"Atlases, huh." The Paladin responded. "Well, I'll..."

"N7!" Hans shouted suddenly.

The Paladin turned to face him, but at that moment he felt Cupcake dash past him with such force that he send him crashing to the ground. Recovering, he noticed that where he was once standing, Cupcake had flashed his claws, and at their end, he saw the frail figure of a Phantom standing limp, keeping on her feet only by the sharp blades of red that pierced her skull. Cupcake withdrew them, and she fell to the ground in a soft, lifeless heap.

"That's the second time." Cupcake said gleefully.

"Good thing you're not on my team then." The Paladin remarked.

Cupcake simply snarled back.

"Wait a second." Hans said. "Shadow?"

The Paladin and Cupcake looked around, but sure enough, their teammate was nowhere to be found.

"What? She was standing right here." The Paladin noticed. "Where could she have...?"

"Oh no." He heard Hans go.

He rushed over to where the quarian was, standing over a ledge. Looking over, he noticed the figure of the Shadow far below them, pursuing what appeared to be a Phantom.

"Damnit, is she being stupid?" He asked rhetorically.

"She really doesn't like those Phantoms." Hans mused. "I think it's got something to do with the swords."

The Paladin simply cursed further, bewildered and angered by his former teammate's willingness to throw herself off high ledges to pursue those she deemed a competitor in swordplay.

"Atlas!" He heard Cupcake shriek, followed by the hard feel of a rocket explode close by, nearly throwing them off the ledge.

The Paladin recovered quickly, backing away from the exposed height, and turning to face the metal beast, that had somehow sneaked up on them. Activating his shield, he withstood its initial volley of pellets, allowing Cupcake a chance to attack. But the Cerberus mech was hardly one to react to the burning of a flamethrower, and soon turned its attention to the vorcha, delivering a powerful blow that gave his regeneration pause.

"Cupcake!" The Paladin shouted, grabbing the Atlases' attention with his shield. "You go after Shadow! We'll handle this."

Cupcake had quickly recovered, and seeing the Atlas as more than a challenge that would hardly sate his bloodlust, took up on the Paladin's initiative, throwing himself recklessly of the ledge to his teammate now far away...

If it had been an Assault Trooper, she would have certainly not even bothered to register his retreat, the same could be said of Centurions, for she often confused the two. A Guardian, she doubted would even be capable of fleeing the battlefield, what with their shields being the albatrosses around their necks that they were. An Engineer, whenever she disposed of them, she would either do a needless somersault to avoid the non-existent turret, or she would get painfully blasted by its lightning fast volley when she did need to perform one, but chose not to. A Nemesis, she hardly ever registered, for they were often distant from the field, though it did prove quite humorous to watch them scurry around when in close, because they lacked melee capabilities. And she had never seen an Atlas ever try and retreat, so she could not really ponder whether she would pursue one if it did.

But a Phantom?

The Shadow observer the Cerberus trooper with feminine curves try and make her escape, but the N7 was having none of it. Some part of her deep down, beneath the majority of her that wanted to see this... bitch dead, was urging her to break off what seemed like her willing participation into a trap. But then the Shadow laid her eyes upon the Phantom's sword, still swinging freely behind her and that part was thoroughly subdued beneath her rage.

The Phantom vaulted up ledges, and the Shadow followed in hot pursuit. Though she had been through more than enough physical exertion for today, the Shadow was practically flying in the way she so adamantly chased her prey, only growing more determined to catch her the further she eluded her grasp. Until eventually, the Phantom entered out onto what appeared to be a dead end, the walls extending far too high up for her to climb, and before she could ready her blade, she felt the immense weight, behind which wrath and fury resided as the Shadow pounced upon her, forcing her to the ground.

The Phantom's blade went flying out of her hands, and before she could resort to the energy blaster contained within her palm, the Shadow brought her own blade in one fell swing and pierced the Phantom's hand, right through the armour to the skin. Feeling the body violently shake and shriek under her, the Shadow brought her blade out of the Phantom's wounded hand, and carefully held it right across the thin fabric that shielded her throat. The Phantom stopped her mechanical whirl of a shriek, seemingly understanding the situation she found herself, and simply looked up into the dominant N7 above her, who felt a sudden compulsion to utter something.

"I like the way you die, girl." The Shadow whispered down at her prey, before bringing the blade across the skin in one clean swing.

Perhaps she got a little carried away, but somehow, as the blood splashed her helmet, the Shadow felt some sinister pleasure as it felt undeniably right. Even with the Phantom now a lifeless corpse, she was both glad that there was one less Cerberus ninja in the galaxy, as well as the gloom that she had nothing to sink her blade into.

Now that she was no longer in pursuit and her mind was clear, the Shadow observed her surroundings, and found them to be much different than the one she remembered. She breathed in deep, the sharp intake of air inside her helmet gave her the scent of the red innards combined with the cold metal from her kill. And to her dull surprise, it was a good smell, a rewarding smell that made her feel a swell of pride.

Of course, after it had faded away and she realised just where she was exactly, the Shadow soon felt quite stupid for what she had thrown herself into. Before she could open up her Omni-Tool to get her bearings, she heard the sounds of footsteps hustling in her direction. Picking up on the sound quickly, she activated her cloak and shimmered from view, as an assortment of troopers came into view. They passed her, predictably without noticing her, but just as nearly all of them had left the area, one paused. He cast a precarious look about the area, and stayed behind as the rest of his company moved on.

Hard luck for him then, the Shadow thought to herself, as she slowly manoeuvred around him, getting into a comfortable position with her blade. Never before had a single soldier been a problem for her, but as she was within melee range, ready to pounce upon the unsuspecting trooper, he did something that she never, ever suspected a lowly Cerberus trooper was capable of.

Before the blade came out of the air, he raised his gauntlets, and without warning, two huge laces coloured a dizzying gold lashed out, whipping the air and taking the Shadow completely by surprise. She felt them graze into her, a very different kind of pain, as she was flung out of her cloak and crashed to the floor, her blade flying far out of sight. She tried to recover, bit the sheer shock of being struck as the whips still stung immensely. Somewhere above her, she swore she could hear the Cerberus trooper laughing a sinister laugh, followed by the sizzling ignition of his whips. The Shadow raised her legs and managed to backflip her way to her feet, a good distance from this strange new foe.

The trooper however, proved to share her acrobatic finesse, as he raised his arms, golden lashes blazing and leapt a mighty leap in her direction. The Shadow tried to leap out of the way, but the lashes snagged her leg and she promptly crashed to the ground yet again. She hopped back to her feet, a little less neatly, as the one caught by the lash still stung with an uncanny pain. The trooper, not even touched by her yet, and was soon upon her, and before she could properly utilise her acrobatics to escape, he swung the lashes lightning fast, and caught her already wounded leg in one snarl trap.

The Shadow screamed in pain as her leg was enveloped in the golden whip. The more she struggled to break free, the more it stung, reducing her usual athletic figure into a sluggish contortion trying in vain to escape. It was then that she noticed the trooper had not brought his other lash into play; looking from her compromised position, she saw that he had retracted it, staring down at his captive N7. Somehow, she realised what he was about to do before he did it, and cursed herself as the trooper swung round, with all his strength, and sent the Shadow flying. Straight into a wall a good distance away she was thrown, hitting it with such force that she nearly crashed straight through it.

She lingered for moment, he body slowly coming to grips with the sheet levels of pain she felt, before she slid down it. Crumpling into a heap at its base, the last thing the Shadow felt before succumbing to darkness was how her leg felt like it had been almost ripped from her body, attached only by a thread or so, before her vision darkened and she remembered no more.

As for the trooper, he once again ignited his golden lashes, fully intent on finishing the job, just as Cupcake entered the scene. The vorcha first saw the trooper, puzzled as to his unfamiliar appearance, then saw his teammate lying unresponsive on the ground in a pool of growing blood. That particular image triggered a flare within Cupcake's mind, and before the trooper could respond to this intruder, the vorcha pounced on him, slashing and slicing with Omni-Tool a fiery red, cutting straight through the thick armour at the fleshy husk and reducing it to red ribbons in an instant.

It was not until the trooper lay long dead that Cupcake attended to the wounded Shadow. Applying what Medi-Gel he had in no time at all, he realised that lacking the substantial healing factor of a vorcha, she would not survive the events of the day unless they found help fast. But being on an unfamiliar station in the midst of a Cerberus invasion, what options did he have. Cupcake looked down at the unresponsive Shadow, and found himself a vorcha for lack of a better word, lost...

* * *

With an echo of horrifying proportions, the N6 Georgina charged into the thicket of the small Cerberus encampment. Those that were not sent flying were soon corrected as she leapt into the air and came crashing down to the ground with a powerful explosion of even more horrifying potential. Now, only a handful of sturdy turrets remained on the field, more than a match for the lone soldier whose biotics were cooling down. Yet Georgina had hardly charged into a thicket without planning with her teammates first. Before the turrets could swiftly fill her with a hail of powerful bullets, the guns of Lillian and the Destroyer were upon them, and Georgina soon stood among a Cerberus-free battlefield.

"There can't be any more, can there?" Lillian asked to nobody in particular, arriving on the scene.

"What, you getting tired, pretty Lilly?" Georgina teased her.

"You aren't?" Lillian retorted, panting quite heavily.

The Destroyer was soon on the scene, followed by Ross, who was quite composed as he had not exerted himself as much as his teammates had.

"Let's just get on with it, ladies." The Destroyer remarked, brushing by the duo, though restricted by his heavy T5-V.

Seeing the wisdom in his words, Lillian and Georgina quickly dropped what brief banter they had, and followed in his wake. The group of four made their way with haste, for as long as Cerberus remained on the Citadel, they could not afford a break. In no time at all, they arrived at a rise that overlooked a wide clearing along the arms of the wards, occupied by a large crowd. Yet, this was no large cluster of Cerberus, but rather an assortment of citizens of various races, being herded along by a much smaller contingent of Cerberus troops. Observing the scene, they analysed the situation.

"This could be difficult." The Destroyer remarked quite obviously.

"You don't say." Georgina scolded him.

The Destroyer dismissed her, turning to the more receptive Lillian and Ross. "Any ideas Ross?"

"Why me?" Ross replied defiantly.

"You used to be one of them, remember." Lillian beat the Destroyer to it.

"I don't remember telling you that." Ross remarked.

"That doesn't matter, do you have any advice?" The Destroyer quickly moved on.

"Well?" Ross struggled to remember. "They wouldn't want to throw away any... potential recruits."

"Screw that, let's just jump them." Georgina butted in.

"And risk civilian casualties." The Destroyed exclaimed, for it was his turn to scold her. "That's not how an N7 does things."

"Whatever we're going to do, let's do it fast." Lillian quickly muttered, for the crowd was slowly moving out of sight.

The Destroyer privately cursed to himself, finding the lack of options frustrating.

"Well I'm not sticking around for you to make up your mind." Georgina said, and before any could stop her, she had dropped down and charged straight into closest trooper.

He was taken out of commission predictably fast, but that reckless action caused quite the commotion to take place. The crowd burst in all directions, some remaining cowering on the ground whilst others fled. The small squad of Cerberus could not contain them, finding the assaulting Alliance trooper a much more pressing threat, as Georgina dashed in to engage them, taking extra care with her lethal biotics, considering the crowd. In no time at all, she had dismantled almost the entire Cerberus squad, and was just about to descend on the last one standing, when he dived for the crowd, fishing out a human woman and keeping her firm under the pressure of a gun clenched in his fist.

"Back off!" He demanded of Georgina.

She had no choice but to oblige, but at that instance, the rest of her team had arrived on the scene. The Destroyer took charge of the negotiation as best he could.

"Where do you think you can run to?" He probed the trooper with equal brutality.

"I said back off!" The trooper continued, digging his gun further into the head of the petrified woman. "Now I'm gonna... well well, if it isn't the defector."

The Destroyer was taken aback by the sudden change in the trooper's tone, but found his comment not directed at him, but at Ross next to him.

"You shut up!" Ross barked back.

"Its shame you left, 8." The trooper continued, his tone quite formal now, almost forgetting the hostage in his grasp. "Your biotics were a little rusty, but had you stayed, you could have considered yourself a real Dragoon."

"I ain't no number, you indoctrinated husk." Ross yelled defiantly, anger boiling within him.

"Admit it, 8. You were scared. Scared of perfection." The trooper mocked him.

"I said shut up!" Ross bellowed, forcing Lillian to grab his torso to prevent him from launching at the... Dragoon.

"Enough." The Destroyer demanded. "You not really expecting a way out of this."

"Aren't I?" The Dragoon turned to him. "How about you, 8. You feel like coming back, your whips could use a little work."

"Stop... calling me that!" Ross barked, Lillian struggling to keep him under control.

"Why not." The Dragoon cried out. "You're not exactly in a position of strength here. You could have been so much more. Instead you defected, to the losing side. I knew you were reckless, but I never would have called you stupid..."

"THAT IS IT!" Ross yelled, throwing Lillian off of him.

He stretched his arms out, and two enormous lashes coloured a bright biotic blue issued forth from his gauntlets, ready to descend upon the Dragoon, who... pulled the trigger.

In an instant, all the blazing fury streaming from Ross turned to stone cold dumbstruck panic as he stood petrified, watching the Dragoon's hostage fall limp to the ground, a gaping hole in her head.

"You son of a bitch!" Georgina burst out, and before the Dragoon could turn his gun on them, or unleash his own golden lashes, she charged into him with such uncontrolled force that his figure shatters into several, squishy, red, metal chunks.

The Destroyer did his best to get the fear struck crowd under control. Lillian did her best to assist him, and Ross stood rooted to the spot, his eyes fixated upon the lifeless corpse that had managed to avoid Georgina's biotic wrath. He could hear the commotion going on around him, but it was all blending together into some incomprehensible mess. That is, until he felt Georgina shaking his shoulders in an attempt to stir him from his self-imposed state of silence.

"Hey, wake up Ross." He heard her shout, her voice sounding a mile away.

The Cerberus defector slowly overcame his paralysis and managed to turn his head to respond to her. But no words could he get out, no matter how hard he tried.

That is until he heard another sound. That of a voice that seemed quite close, by separate from the commotion going on around him.

"N7s! I need help here!"

That voice did not belong to him, nor Georgina, Lillian or the Destroyer, but rather... to a vorcha? Now Ross had to be hearing things.

No he was not, as they all turned to see the very lifelike image of a vorcha stumbling towards them, with something large held over his shoulder.

Lillian and Georgina took defensive postures, finding the sight of a vorcha on the Citadel in the midst of a Cerberus invasion quite alarming. The Destroyer would have to, that is, until he got a closer look at the figure draped unresponsive over the vorcha's shoulder.

"Shadow?" He uttered.

The vorcha got much closer to them before talking again, heedless of what Lillian and Georgina were doing, or of the crowd around them.

"Don't shoot!" It pleaded. "I have a wounded N7 here."

"Is that... the Shadow?" The Destroyer asked, though quite redundantly, as there was no mistaking the armour of his former teammate, despite how it looked like it had being slammed into a wall at high speeds.

The vorcha lay the Shadow on the ground, still oozing a steady trail of blood from the broken fissures within her suit. The Destroyer observed her, and as soon as he saw just how much pain he imagined she was in, immediately descended upon her.

"Shadow... oh god, Shadow. She needs serious help." He cried out.

"I'm on it." Lillian said, getting on her Omni-Tool to call for a backup, dropping whatever pretence of mistrust at the vorcha's presence once she understood just how grave the N7's position was. "Georgina, you sort them out."

She motioned to the crowd, having patiently witnessed the whole ordeal, and while Georgina would have most likely protested, she got right on it once she realised just how serious the situation was.

Georgina did her best to calm and usher the crowd onwards while her teammates remained behind to attend to the Shadow that was just barely clinging to life. The Destroyer and the vorcha did their best to administer what aid they could with their limited supplies, while Lillian conversed over Omni-Tool. With so much to do in such scant time, no one paid any attention to Ross. He sat observing the situation over the Shadow quietly, the events only a few moments still fresh in his mind. Refusing to leave.

Eventually, Lillian caught sight of a shuttle descending above to answer her calls. The little craft descended promptly, and a familiar face was there to greet them.

"Sir!" Lillian uttered suddenly in response to the Slayer's presence.

"Please, Lillian, let's not waste any more time here." He quickly dismissed her, hopping off the shuttle attend to the Shadow.

The Destroyer and the vorcha carefully lifted the broken N7 with haste, shuddering over how long she gone without the proper care.

"Not you too." The Destroyer heard the Slayer mutter to himself.

"She'll make it." He tried to comfort his teammate.

"You haven't seen the Fury." The Slayer replied gravely.

"Excuse me?" He replied, growing concerned.

"She's in a bad way." The Slayer replied, his tone barely without any of its usual upbeat composure.

"What kind of bad way?" The Destroyer further pressed him.

"Why don't you come on and find out." The Slayer responded, and barely after he had said those words, the Destroyer was already aboard. "Oh... I almost forgot. Cerberus has retreated. It's over."

That was enough to raise the spirits of practically every soul that heard it substantially. Even the vorcha, who gave off the impression that he revealed in bloodshed, seemed relieved.

"Just like that?" Lillian asked, slightly disbelievingly

"Just like that." The Slayer clarified. "Still, they left behind a hell of a mess. I think we can all vouch for that."

No one cared to doubt that, and so they all clambered aboard the shuttle, well, all except for Ross.

"If it's okay with you, I'll go ahead and help out Georgina." He politely stated, his voice coming back for what felt like the first time in a while.

The others would have protested, but the Shadow lying still without proper treatment put an end to anymore stalling, and they bid each other farewell, and the shuttle promptly rose into the air, much heavier but still proceeding as fast as it would allow itself.

As for Ross, he did not immediately head on after Georgina to tell her the good news. In fact he was having a hard time coming to understanding it himself, for there were still fresh Cerberus corpses scattered about the area, but now all of a sudden they had allegedly turned and take flight, just like that. That was not the Cerberus he was familiar with.

Everything was going way too fast for him to stop and think for a minute. Ross took off his helmet, so akin to that of those Dragoons that it was more than unsettling. He breathed in deep, trying to collect and arrange the many thoughts rushing through his head a mile a minute, but it was all too much. He breathed one last deep intake of breath that shot straight to his brain, imbuing him with a dizzying feel, before he subsequently fainted on the spot, deciding that after all he had been through today, he was long due for a nap, regardless of wherever it happened to be.

* * *

**Well, whatever you thought of that, know that the next chapter will have an entirely different tone to it. A dialogue heavy _romantic _tone, that is. I've actually been waiting a long time to start writing it, so hopefully it should be pretty good. Or not, who knows?**


	11. Chrysanthemum

**Man, didn't expect that would happen. Now this story is in quite state, isn't it. Oh well, how about I make up for the really long absence with a super duper extra large chapter full of so much dialogue and stuff.**

**Enjoy?**

* * *

It was... a hard night for more than one soul on the Citadel. Cerberus may have came and gone, their efforts at claiming the station for themselves foiled thanks to a certain individual, but like the Slayer had said, they had left behind one hell of a mess. And while the many unaccounted turrets and more than enough credits worth of property damage would prove difficult to recover from, the giant station suspended in a nebula was noticeably lighter in life than it had before Cerberus paid it a visit.

But right now, what Georgina, N6 wanted to do right now, was put her feet up, finish a bottle of rare Earth wine that she was saving for a special occasion, and eventually doze off into the night that was desperately calling out to her longingly. But she had a guest to share that particular delight with this evening.

"After you." She beaconed of Ross to step through the door of her small Presidium apartment, the only scrap of space in the galaxy she could call her own.

"This is a pretty nice place for someone like you." Ross remarked as he surveyed the modest sized room.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" She asked, eying him suspiciously.

"Well, it just..." Ross struggled to reply, finding her glare off-putting. "From what I've seen of you, I wouldn't expect you'd be the kind that would afford herself such a luxury."

"You think this is luxury?" Georgina said, taking a good look at her apartment. "This is nothing compared to what I had back on Earth."

"Uh-huh." Ross went, sluggishly.

"Oh but you don't want to hear about that." She quickly dismissed herself. "Have a seat, would you."

Ross took up on the initiative and settled himself onto the only object in the room that allowed someone a seat: a large enough sofa that looked relatively expensive, at least from his somewhat limited perspective. Georgina meanwhile, busied herself with the aforementioned bottle of rare Earth wine. Though it seemed like ages ago, she recalled that Ross had offered to have a drink with her that morning, and since their day had been somewhat derailed, now seemed like the last chance to do so before they retired for the night.

"Here." She said, settling herself next to Ross with two glasses.

"Oh I don't know." He remarked cautiously.

"Come on, you promised." Georgina prodded him.

"I did?" He was having trouble remembering.

"This morning, remember?" She said. "Remember going to Purgatory, and you were just about to take a sip when... you know."

"Yeah, I know." He replied gravely.

Georgina held the glass containing the exotic beverage in front of him. "Come on."

"Oh... fine then." Ross said, succumbing to the alluring aroma and taking the glass in a shaky hand.

"Come on..." Georgina pressed him.

"You first?" He requested.

She was more than happy to oblige him, and took a measured, but gracious swig from her glass.

"Oh, that's just... what I needed after today." She remarked with immense satisfaction.

"Why don't you have mine?" Ross offered.

"No no no, I insist." She replied. "Now go on."

Ross observed the liquid sitting contently within his glass. A cherry red, quite delicious looking indeed, but still it was with some internal struggle that he eventually worked up the courage to bring it to his lips.

"Hope I don't regret this." He remarked, before taking a sizable gulp.

For the first time he remembered having alcohol in a very long time... it was not that bad a substance. Though it had that bitter aftertaste, already could he feel all his muscles, quite seized up after the events of the day starting to loosen up and imbue him with a slight light-headedness as he breathed out deeply.

"See, wasn't so bad." Georgina said, taking another small sip from her glass.

"Yeah, I don't know about that." He declared, settling the glass down on the table in front of them.

Georgina paid his aversion to further indulging in her liquor no heed, and simply drank her share. Ross observed her and felt a slight boost in confidence, and decided to give his take another go. With some sudden strength that he did not believe he had in him, he managed to get the whole glass down, and soon felt his muscles slowly switch off one by one, in addition to his head feeling like it could simply fly off. Somewhere, he could hear Georgina laughing a little, and even though she was sitting right beside him, her voice, the little singsong voice to her felt far, far away.

"See, you're getting the hang of it already." She said, bringing him back to reality.

Ross tried to respond, but for some reason found words difficult to form, so he simply laughed a weak laugh as a response.

"So I was wondering something about you." Georgina suddenly expressed.

"Oh." He went.

"If you don't mind me asking." She started. "What was Cerberus like?"

Ross was silent for a time, trying to think of the best thing to say. Quite curious as to this rather spontaneous query, he answered in one of his own.

"You just wondering?" He asked. "About Cerberus, or about me?"

"Hmm, I guess a little bit of both." Georgina responded after a while.

The memories Ross had of his former organisation were hardly pleasant. He was completely within his right to refuse, but somehow her inquisitive and perky attitude was something he could not resist indulging in.

"It was not as good as Alliance." He said bluntly.

"That's all?" Georgina pressed him, quite predictably. "Come on, what kind of conversationalist are you?"

"Sorry, we didn't have many conversations." Ross continued in the same blunt tone. "In addition to other luxuries."

"So... if you don't mind me asking." She said again. "How exactly did you defect before they indoctrinated you?"

"Very cleverly." He replied, with a hint of pride.

"So... when did it become apparent to you that you had to leave?" Georgina continued her questioning.

At that particular query, Ross gave her a particular strange look. One that made it clear she should have been a little more selective with what she was saying

"Oh, sorry. Is it too indiscreet?" She asked with concern.

"No." Ross replied. "But the answer a little sensitive."

"Oh I'm sorry." Georgina repeated, with an unusual tone of sympathy. "Let's just move on..."

"No wait." Ross said suddenly. "I think it'd be better if I told it to someone."

"Oh... go on." She asked, dropping the sympathetic tone for one of curiosity at once.

"Alrighty then." Ross said, deciding to take his glass of the table and bring it to his mouth yet again, taking one bold swig followed by a deep breath. "I had a friend in Cerberus. They indoctrinated them. I decided it was time to go."

Georgina looked at him expectantly. Ross simply sat in silence, apparently finished.

"That's... it?" She asked disbelievingly.

"Yep." He replied.

Georgina faintly laughed in return, quite bewildered to say the least. "What exactly do you mean that's it?"

"I needed to get that off my chest." Ross remarked.

"Oh, well, well done." She mockingly congratulated him. "Any other deep meaningful divulgences you have to confess, or are you done?"

"Well now that you mention it." Ross began. "There is one thing I feel like I should tell you."

"Oh, go on, let's hear it." She asked with mock eagerness.

Ross took a deep breath yet again. "Well... you know what happened with me and that Dragoon today?"

"Dragoon?" Georgina asked, confused.

"The ones with the whips. Y'know, that one who took that hostage?" Ross reminded her, his irritation suppressed.

"Oh... right." She exclaimed. "Is that what they're called? Yeah, I remember."

"Well. I've been... err, thinking about that..." Ross quietly ushered out.

"Thinking about... what?" Georgina asked.

"What happened." He said.

"Oh. What did happen?" She asked, obviously not following him.

"What do you mean what happened?" He said. "You saw what happened. A hostage got shot. Because of me."

Ross spoke as if he was confessing something. He had expected her to understand, but somehow, his sudden remorseful tone did not seem to get through to her.

"Oh. Now I remember." She said. "What do you mean: a hostage got shot because of you?"

"I mean." Ross elaborated, now quite irritated. "If I hadn't blown up the way I did, he might not have shot that hostage."

"Now slow down." She said, grasping the situation now. "You don't know that. There's no telling whether that, umm... Dragoon was really going to stand down without a fight."

"Well... I could have handled it much better that." Ross continued to blame himself. "I mean, I let someone taunt me. _Taunt me?!_ What the hell's wrong with me? That's just stupid, petty, and now someone is dead because of that."

"Hey you don't know..." Georgina attempted to reason with him, but Ross was only just beginning.

"You wouldn't have let someone get the best of you?!" He asked rhetorically. "Neither would the Destroyer! I should have just let him do the talking, I should have just kept quiet and maybe he could have handled the situation just fine, I am no better than those damn Cerberus..."

Ross would have compared himself to the organisation he had left, but he did not get the chance to properly finish. For at that instant Georgina drew her hand and slapped him cold and hard across his face, inducing a state of speechlessness upon him. Ross was now looking into the eyes of Georgina, who had gone from being passive to a barely suppressed wrath.

"That's enough." She scold him, quite tranquil, but still immensely serious. "You may have made a mistake today, but don't you dare think I'm going to let you compare yourself to those monsters. Don't you even dare..."

She abruptly stopped, for a pained expression suddenly dawned on her face. Ross pondered for a minute but then understood why. He recalled, at some point in the past, that she had found it hard to believe that he had really left Cerberus of his own free will. Whether he really was different from them. She had appeared more than suspicious, if he remembered it right, yet now here she was demanding he stop trying to compare himself to them in his downtrodden state. Whether it was ironic, he did not know, nor did he care at any rate.

Georgina raised her hand to his face yet again, though this time, she merely held his cheek from where she had slapped him in an apologetic caress. Then, to his pleasant surprise, a few tears streamed freely down her own face, her look having gone from pained to pitiful.

"I'm sorry." He decided to say, finding it hard to bother elongating his words.

"Me too." She confessed. "Just please... don't ever compare yourself to them again."

"If you insist." He replied, a little heedless of her pitiful tone.

Georgina did not reply, instead simply sitting there holding his cheek, as her expression became serene. Ross simply obliged her, the feel of her hand on his cheek quite soothing, until he simply had to do something about this.

"Okay... now what?" He asked her.

Georgina did not reply. This state of silence was quite strange to him, for it was a new development for her. Then, without warning, she slowly drew her head closer to his.

"Umm, Georgina?" He asked quite innocently. "What are you doing?"

Again, she did not answer, causing him to become quite flustered, his heart starting up a fierce beat as her forehead suddenly touched his. All compulsions were telling him to pull back. But for some reason, he was starting to really like the feel of her as more of her skin touched his.

The pair remained in that position for what felt like an hour, Ross in his nervous state, afraid of making any movements, and Georgina simply staring into his eyes with a growing expression that suggested she was going to do something quite unexpected. Eventually, he decided to make another attempt at engaging her verbally.

"Okay really Georgina?" He asked impatiently. "This is getting kind of..."

He was cut out from divulging himself when Georgina did what he suspected, but never actually believed she was building towards. And that was her locking her lips with his in a rather passionate kiss. Ross was overcome with a very strange sense that he had never quite felt before; he tried to pull his head back, but Georgina had obviously suspected he would try that, and had placed a hand around his head, preventing his lips from escaping hers and _forcing_ him to enjoy it. Ross could have easily overcome her, had he tried, but those lips brushing and tickling against his own had cast some kind of spell that had rendered him quite incapable of movement. Eventually however, she decided that they had remained like this for long enough, and drew back on her own.

"Hmm... not bad." She mused, smacking her lips together. "Not the best, by far. But still, kind of cute."

Ross was breathing too fast and furiously to reply. Georgina observed him stunned like that, and chuckled to herself, admiring her handiwork.

"Oh my..." He began. "Oh oh oh oh oh! Oh my... wow!"

"Really?" She asked disbelievingly. "What's the matter? Never been kissed before?"

"I don't know." Ross said, trying to remember. "Not that I can recall."

Georgina giggled to herself. "I knew that would perk you up. Now... I'm pretty tired."

And without warning, she promptly stood up, lounged her way over to the sole bed in the room (suspiciously fit for two), and sat on it's edge, looking eagerly over to Ross lying dumfounded on the couch.

"Well?" She addressed him. "You coming?"

"Wait, what?" He asked, peering over. "You mean... well, I've never done that... I mean, it's all so sudden."

"Will you stop all that rambling and get over here!" Georgina demanded. "Or would you prefer to sleep on the floor?"

Ross stood up, and considered his options. Quite frankly, this was not something he remembered ever doing before. It certainly was not something he ever imagined he would be doing when he woke up today. But then again, there were more than a few things he had not intended doing today that had happened together anyway. So maybe, he would have been quite stupid to refuse such an offer after all he had been through today.

"Okay." He said. "But first, could I brush my teeth?"

"Wha- oh... just be quick about it." Georgina replied with impatience.

"Thanks, won't be a minute." He said, quickly making his way to the bathroom...

When Ross awoke the following morning, he felt many things. The first, and perhaps the most prominent, was that his head felt quite heavy, like a little heavier than it had before. He supposed that the trauma of the battle followed by that light glass of wine were the likely causes for that; and it was quite gratifying to have his head resting against the soft cushiony pillow. The second, was that his muscles, particularly the ones in his arms and legs, were aching immensely. Again, this he could attribute to the unscheduled battle that he had participated in the previous day. Usually, when he would undergo proper warmups to prepare his arms for the cumbersome lashes he would be wielding. As for his legs well, he had done a lot of running.

But that was not all he felt as he lay there, his eyes firmly shut. There were bruises too, arranged carelessly in certain places around his body. Ross was practically complaining at this stage, for he was quite lucky to have survived the events of the Cerberus assault with just a few bruises, for he had seen more than enough soldiers who suffered much worse. And there were some who would be suffering no longer.

But perhaps, most of all, above the weight of his head, the aching in his muscles, and the sting of fresh scars, Ross felt another feeling. This one was not a relic of the previous day, but rather a new development of the present one. And that happened to be the gentle, comforting strokes of a tender hand going down his face. There was simply no denying it, Ross loved this feeling; likely due to the fact that he had never felt it before. Sure, he had woken up many days feeling all bruised and tired, but never had there been anything addressing those scars, gently caressing him into the start of a brand new day. So, deciding to greet the day, he opened his eyes.

And there, lying beside him, was Georgina, the one and only, her hand, the one stroking his face, a smile on her own. He then noticed the bed the pair of them were lying in; himself with the covers all the way up to his neck, yet Georgina they only covered from the waist down, exposing her chest, which was clad only in a dark navy blue bra.

"This is all I'm wearing, by the way." She remarked, noticing him staring at her concealed bust.

As if to clarify that, Georgina brushed her legs against his underneath the covers. Ross felt them entwine, followed by the sound of his heart suddenly start up a fierce beat.

"Oh, umm. Right." He replied, quite clumsily.

Georgina could not help herself but laugh at his perpetual state of surprise and bewilderment.

"Still finding it hard to believe?" She jested.

"More like very hard to believe." Ross corrected her. "How exactly... did we get here again."

"Well." Georgina began. "I offered to let you stay here the night. You accepted. We had a drink, we chatted. You got a little emotional, I got a little emotional. Things got kind of hot, then... we slept together."

"Oh yeah. Now I remember." Ross remarked, losing the tone of shock for once. "But wait, I can't seem to remember it all. By slept together, did you mean..."

"You haven't forgot, have you?" She interrupted him. "Sex! We had sex! Don't tell me you forgot we did that, because that kind of offends me."

"Oh... really." He said, bewilderment returning. "To be honest, everything about last night's kind of blurry. Must have been that wine."

The irritant tone of Georgina was dropped as she promptly giggled at the level of naïveté Ross was displaying.

"I can't believe how much of a reaction to having sex with someone you aren't displaying." She posed. "You really should be getting on my nerves here."

"So, why aren't I?" He retorted.

Georgina answered, not with words but with her lips, closing in and sealing them around his. Ross was taken aback, but only for a brief while before he got properly reacquainted with the inside of her mouth. Now this was something he could remember quite vividly, on account of having no memory of engaging in it with another before. Ross simply lay there with his head against the pillow, taking in all of Georgina that she was willing to give him; until eventually, want of air forced them apart, her pulling away, licking her lips and smiling, something he mimicked fondly.

"What was I saying again?" She suddenly asked, the memory of what they were doing prior to her advance mysteriously vanishing.

"You were saying how I'm not getting on your nerves so much." Ross reminded her.

"Oh yeah." She exclaimed. "Well you know. Just cause..."

"Umm, just cause what?" He asked.

"I... don't really know." She replied, clumsily.

"Well... alright. Good for you." He responded, in equal clumsiness.

Georgina managed a faint laugh, before laying her head down on her pillow.

And there they lay, for a while, uncertain of what else they could discuss. Georgina heaved a heavy sigh and closed her eyes, choosing to simply rest, offering Ross an opportunity to reflect on her slumbering form. When he pictured Georgina before, the image of a faceless suit of heavy armour entered his mind, quite bulky and almost impossible to distinguish the identity of the Alliance marine beneath it. Save for all the times she had groaned and grunted as she thundered around the battlefield in her magnificent biotic bounds, it could have really been anyone he shared the fight with. Alongside him, the equally faceless N7 Destroyer, and their naturally faceless quarian teammate, there was nothing that really said anything  
about their identities, other than how they looked.

But here, with the covers of a bed the only sort of layer around them, it was another matter entirely. Georgina, unobstructed by her bulky suit, was quite petite in figure. Her skin had a pale complexion, likely due to spending so much time sealed up in her armour to see much of the sun. What was very distinct about her was her hair, a crazy array of brown locks scattered all over the end of her pillow, some falling freely over her face, though she did not pay them any heed. So Ross, quite absentmindedly, reached out a hand, plucked one of the loose hairs and cast it over her head, leaving her face free and unrestricted.

"Hey, Georgina?" He asked suddenly.

"Mmmph." She murmured, not bothering to open her eyes or her mouth to coherently reply.

"You know how you've got that helmet you wear." He began.

"Uh-huh." She groaned.

"How do you keep all that hair out of your face?" He asked, sounding quite innocently.

Georgina opened an eye, her brow raised quite suspiciously at his question. Ross simply did his best to appear as innocent as possible.

"By tying it up." She responded, a little irritated.

"But doesn't it sometimes come undone?" He continued.

"Sometimes." She groaned.

"Oh... okay." He said, before going quiet, carelessly flicking his own short black hair, thankful he was spared the trauma of having a wild mane to handle.

Georgina simply grunted, quite disapprovingly, turning over in her sleep, clutching her pillow tightly. Ross, on the other hand, felt that he had slept his share, and was now ready to properly greet the new day. So, bracing himself, he untangled himself from Georgina, sitting himself on the edge of the bed before it suddenly dawned on him that he was clothed. _Clothed?_ Just what kind of sex did they have that rendered him still clothed, well _mostly_ clothed anyway. His first reaction was to ask his new... girlfriend?

Ross paused. Despite virtually everything that had gone on between the two of them, only now was he considering the fact that they could have potentially initiated a relationship here. Maybe she just wanted to sleep with him, maybe she was something of a vixen and Ross was simply not familiar with the concept of a one night stand. Yet looking over at the woman resting peacefully without a care in the galaxy, somehow that prospect did not quite fit.

He would have to question her about this eventually. But for now he could look forward to a long day of... well, something, Ross was not the kind that thought too far ahead. But if there was one thing he was certain he wanted to do, and that was not having to put on his suit again, fasten up those biotic lashes and handle an unexpected visit from his former colleagues. Just the thought of the last day, with all the havoc, the bloodshed, the hostages. The... hostages.

Ross forcefully pushed those thoughts far from his mind, for they belonged in the past and there was nothing that could be done to change the order of things now. So he properly got up from the bed, casting one last look at his... acquaintance lying undisturbed, before he made his way to the bathroom, hoping she would not mind him using her shower.

And then his mind started to wander over to the Destroyer, glad he would not be privy to his teammates little night together. What were the chances that he was having romantic problems of his own, right?

Well...

* * *

A sharp, merciless jolt of pain thrusted the Shadow back into the world of the living. Her first, base instinct was to attempt to assess the area of her body that was in agony, and found it to be her left leg. Come to think of it, all of her body was in a strange state of pain, from her splitting headache, to her swollen chest, to her exhausted arms that felt immensely heavy. Her right leg had either been cleaved off, or was just in an extreme state of numbness, but right now, her only concern was with her left. She knew precisely the kind of state it was in, and that was one of suffering. She imagined that it had been like this for a while, but only now did she seem to have enough willpower to rise from her state of unconsciousness and properly address it.

It was only after she had gotten acceptably acquainted with the perpetual pain in her loose limb, did she start to acknowledge her surroundings. And quite frankly, this was a place the Shadow never expected she would end up in: a damn hospital. It was not that she bore any disdain for places of healing; it was simply because she prided herself on her great athletic figure, in addition to her prowess with the blade. The fact that she had suffered to the point that she had ended up in a hospital could only mean that she had done something incredibly foolish that forced her here.

Her eyes fluttered lazily to the left, and found a grand view of the majestic Presidium greeting her. Judging from this, and the fact that she had actually woken up from her wounds, she assumed that the hospital in which she had woken up to be none other than Huerta Memorial Hospital, the best on the Citadel. Lying there, with her head too weary to move any where else, the Shadow put the pieces together of just what had happened since she had left the world of the living. Cerberus must have been driven off the station, that much was clear, for the vehicles she saw flying past were free of the distinct Cerberus paint job. Which must to have meant that the intimidating foe that had rendered her like this was dealt with, and she was rescued in time before her leg all but bled out.

She sincerely hoped that it was not the Slayer who had rescued her, for that would have had to have meant that he saw her in such a weak state to begin with. The Shadow now felt a sharp pain of regret in addition to the subdued pain in her leg. Stupid she had been, more than stupid, for an N7, she had willingly abandoned her perfectly organised team to go chasing after a worthless Phantom that probably would have died anyway. That recklessness led to her being here, being a burden, using up previous medical resources that could have gone to others.

Suddenly she became aware of a sound quite close to her. The sound of deep breathing as if someone was sleeping quite close by. Turning her head with some effort, the Shadow became aware of a person sitting in a chair right beside her, with their head on her bed, seeming to have fallen asleep waiting for her to rejoin the living. The Shadow observed the figure dozing there only for a while, before it suddenly became apparent who it was, and her heart promptly leapt right into her mouth, starting up a furious beat. For the person that was napping on her bed was none other... than the Demolisher.

No, no it couldn't be. The Shadow had obviously suffered great trauma that had rendered her more than capable of experiencing more than a few hallucinations. Or maybe she was simply dreaming, no; she was dead. Yes that fit perfectly, for she had not survived her tangle with the Cerberus foe and this was merely a happy imbalance before passing on into whatever afterlife awaited her.

Yet despite how well that fit,the Shadow was frankly not one to accept it. Instead, she further examined the only soul in the galaxy she wished to see, napping by her side. She had to be absolutely sure that it was indeed the Demolisher, as she looked longingly into her face. A good, solid complexion that had the luxury if not being burdened by the hard suit of armour that masked her on the battlefield. An assortment of red hair, bedraggled by her improvised sleeping position, with her arms supporting her head on the Shadow's hospital bed, a peaceful look about her despite her close proximity to her wounded teammate.

The Shadow, without even thinking, slowly reached out with a bruised hand to touch the locks of the Demolisher. She just, _had_ to make sure she was really there. She was, and the moment the hand met the hair, vicious beating of the Shadow's heart only increased, causing her to stop breathing altogether as she very carefully fondled the Demolisher's hair, just soaking in the immense happiness at the fact that the woman was actually there.

Her prodding eventually caused the Demolisher to stir. At that instance, the Shadow immediately withdrew her hand, her breath coming back as she exhaled profoundly. The combined effort made the Demolisher moved her head and open her eyes; she peered up at the Shadow, observing her with a mixture of elation and trepidation on her face.

"Hey Shadow." She uttered heedlessly, still not quite awake yet to properly comprehend the fact that the Shadow was awake.

"...Hiya, Demo." The Shadow responded breathlessly, not quite comprehending the fact that the Demolisher _was there_.

At the mention of Demo however, the state of the woman lying with her head on the bed changed almost immediately. Her eyes snapped open, her head jerked up, staring directly into the eyes of the Shadow, staring back.

"Oh my god!" She cried out. "Oh, thank... you're awake! You're alive! You're, you're..."

Before she could help herself, tears of joy began to flow freely down her face as she acknowledged the Shadow's state of wellbeing. The Shadow simply observed her in her own private sense of happiness.

"Oh my, I thought the worse." The Demolisher managed to continue, getting a grip of herself. "When I heard about the attack, I was worried. When I heard about you, I was downright terrified."

"Nice to see you too, Demo." The Shadow remarked, smiling despite her wounded state.

"Yes. Nice to see you too..." She responded, quite breathlessly, but slowly overcoming how stunned she was.

As if to clarify that, she reached out and bore her arms around the Shadow's head. She would not have minded so much, had that not caused one of her many wounds to remind her that it was still there. The Shadow let out a desperate cry of pain, causing the Demolisher to immediately pull back.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry." She apologised.

"It's fine, Demo." The Shadow replied, getting over her shock. "Try not to hug my leg, if you can help it."

"Right. Of course." She responded., wiping the tears from her stained face, an embarrassing red that matched her hair.

"So?" The Shadow said, once the Demolisher had properly collected herself. "How've you been?"

"Ex... cuse me?" Was the Demolisher's flustered reply.

"How have you been?" She repeated.

"Oh, right." The Demolisher said. "Well, if I'm being honest... it's been a nightmare."

"Really?" She said in disbelief, fearing for the wellbeing of her teammate. "How so?"

"Reapers, Shadow. Reapers." The Demolisher elaborated. "I thought I was more than acquainted with them back when we we fighting them. Turns out I wasn't."

"Well." She attempted to see a silver lining. "At least you haven't had to face Cerberus yet."

"No, I haven't." Her teammate said. "Funny, I missed out on arriving here earlier because I was delayed by fighting Reapers."

"Funny." She agreed. "You know, I kind of miss the Reapers. It's a lot easier fighting mutated batarians and turians. Fighting humans, it just... feels like a huge waste."

"Maybe you should request a transfer?" The Demolisher suggested.

"Maybe I should." She acknowledged. "This new team I'm with. I don't know. We've had scraps. How about yours?"

At that, the Demolisher let out a sharp sigh of discomfort, as if she was being reminded of something fairly painful. Which the Shadow suspected, might just be the case.

"My team." She said. "My team, Shadow?"

"Yes, your team, Demo." The Shadow further elaborated. "Or, is there something wrong?"

"You could say that." The Demolisher replied.

"Oh, well don't worry." The Shadow replied, alarmed. "We don't have to talk about it."

"Thanks, Shadow." The Demolisher replied quietly.

She lay a hand on the Shadow's bed, silently staring out of the window and the pretty image it led out onto. The Shadow observed her, remaining quiet herself. It was obvious that she had triggered some kind of unpleasant memory for the Demolisher, for her posture was reserved, almost bitter. The Shadow began to get uncomfortable the more the pair remained in silence, even growing scared of looking at the Demolisher, despite her prior enthusiasm. She decided she would have to do something fairly drastic to dispel this awkward turn of events. She felt her leg stir beneath the bed's covers, a newfangled energy suddenly brewing within her wounded, but still quite functioning limb. Suddenly, the Shadow felt like she had been in this hospital for long enough; she would most like to experience the Presidium outside her window.

"Hey Demo?" She asked.

"Hmm?" The Demolisher muttered, shaking herself out of her daydreaming.

With a flick of her hand, the Shadow removed the covers from her bed. The rest of her body was revealed, covered in a mixture of a hospital gown and bandages; the sight of her broken leg wrapped up made her almost regret this decision, but she managed to stow those feelings easily enough.

"Shadow, just what do you think you're doing?" The Demolisher asked in deep concern.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" She retorted. "I'm, what do they call it: checking out."

She moved herself up into a sitting position, rotating her torso to swing her legs off the bed, only wincing slightly in response to the brief flicker of pain that shot up. She would have made the transition from bed to floor, had the Demolisher, seeing what she was doing, attempt to stop her by placing her hands on her shoulders.

"Shadow, I really think..." She began.

"Demo, please!" The Shadow exclaimed, causing her to jump slightly. "Please, I absolutely refuse to be anymore of a burden to these people. You've seen how dire things are here. There are far more people deserving of care than a careless N7, surely you understand that, don't you?"

She looked the Demolisher right in her eyes. Right in those bountiful, green orbs. The Shadow had a look of utter determination for something so trivial about her. The Demolisher was hesitant at first, maintaining her grip until, to the surprise of both, a single tear of admiration flowed freely down her cheek. She grinned, causing the Shadow's heart to skip a few beats, before relinquishing her grip on her shoulders.

"Thanks Demo." She said, almost without breath. "Now if you will excuse me."

She braced herself, getting her breathing back on track before making her attempt. Her legs hung off the edge of the bed, hovering slightly above the ground, as she sat there. Eventually, she took a deep breath, and hopped off the bed in one graceful bound. The moment the foot of her wounded leg hit the floor, a predictable jolt of pain flashed all over the wounded limb. The Shadow let out a cry of distress, and made a second bound, right into the Demolisher's arms. _Right into the Demolisher's arms!_

She hung in the grasp for only a little while, before she realised just who exactly was holding her up off the floor. Her eyes flashed into the Demolisher's yet again, but this time she was far less determined now that she was in this compromising position. She made an attempt to get out of the Demolisher's grasp, but the other woman held tight, clearly seeing what would happen if she did.

"You still sure about this?" The Demolisher asked, quite scornfully, but still with concern.

"Of course I am." The Shadow proclaimed quite boldly considering her position. "Just need to..."

Slowly she moved her wounded foot back down to the floor. Another painful shot rewarded her, but she simply pressed her foot further.

"Shadow..." Her supporter said, now deeply concerned now.

"I've got it." She replied, quite assuringly. "It's just a persistent pain after all. Once you understand it and accept it, you have defeated it."

The Demolisher only grew in concern. She still maintained her grip on her teammate, who still had her foot pressed to the floor, wincing as she tried to fight, and understand the persistent pain. Eventually, the Shadow soon started pulling away from her, attempting to stand on her own two feet. A tactic the Demolisher was reluctant to let her do, clutching her protectively.

"Demo, I can do this." The Shadow stated.

The Demolisher would have protested, but she locked eyes with her yet again; the same determined look that said she was really, really set on seeing this through. That kind of look the Demolisher had no defence against, so she grudgingly let go.

The Shadow hovered on the floor on her own for a surprisingly good few seconds. She danced her arms around in the air, trying to maintain balance, casting a look of giddy happiness back at the Demolisher, looking quite accomplished before she started wobbling and almost went crashing down, had the Demolisher not foreseen that and intervened in time, catching her in time again.

"See, ain't so bad." She remarked, cheerily.

"Are you serious, you can't go out like this." The Demolisher said, quite alarmed.

"Rubbish." The Shadow dismissed her. "Just as long as I've got you for support I'll be just fine. Now you know what I need?"

"What?" The Demolisher was almost afraid to ask.

"I need a drink!" She exclaimed. "And maybe a bite to eat too."

"Oh of course you do." The Demolisher responded, expectantly.

"Now, are you going to help me here?" The Shadow asked.

"Help you... where?" The Demolisher asked back.

"You know." The Shadow said.

She gestured her hand over her body, indicating her hospital wear that would hardly be considerate for going out on the wards.

"Help you get dressed?" The Demolisher said, disbelievingly. "Really?"

"Really." She retorted. "You've done it before."

"Hardly." The Demolisher said defensively. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were..."

"Yes?!" The Shadow exclaimed all of a sudden.

"...I don't know." The Demolisher shrugged her off, fretting suddenly as a peculiar thought entered her mind.

"Look if it's too much for you, just let me go and I'll do it myself." She said dismissively.

The Shadow made an effort to get herself out of the Demolisher's protective embrace, but the woman was clearly having none of it.

"Why can't you let go, Demo?" She asked, almost tauntingly.

"I don't want to see you stupidly hurt yourself." The Demolisher replied defensively.

"Well then we can stand here all day and argue like this." She began. "Or we can try and make some progress."

"... Oh fine then. Let's just get this over with." The Demolisher conceded.

"That's the spirit, Demo." She said. "Oh, but make sure not to tell, you know. Slayer."

"I am not telling a soul that I an N7, helped another N7 get dressed. Got that?" The Demolisher clarified.

"Yes, Demo..." The Shadow replied, her mood turning low, seeing how pitiful such a situation made her look...

Eventually, after much delicate moaning as the Shadow contorted her wounded limbs, did she go from looking like a wounded N7 in a hospital gown, to just a wounded N7. It was a particularly strange ordeal for the Demolisher, and a more than embarrassing one for her teammate. Considering just what kind of feelings the Shadow had suppressed in her for the Demolisher, she at least found some consolidation in maintaining a lid on them. No easy feat when the woman of her figurative dreams was practically dressing her in a parental manner.

As for the Demolisher; while it was certainly strange, it could have been far worse. While she had heard of just what kind of serious injuries the Shadow had suffered, and seen them hidden beneath bandages and a hospital gown, to actually see the exposed, crippled flesh of her leg was... painful, for her. She had to hand it to the Shadow, someone who took great pride in her athletic figure and struggled to maintain a healthy semblance, considering the wartime. A crippled leg would be more than a physical blow to someone like her. Now the Demolisher was beginning to understand why she was so terror stricken when she learnt of the ordeal of her teammate, comrade, friend... companion.

"Well that wasn't so bad, was it?" The Shadow remarked positively, as she leaned on the Demolisher for support, properly clothed now.

"No, it wasn't." The Demolisher replied, trying to sound upbeat, but the sight of the scars, and her brewing feelings plaguing her mind. "...So umm, where did you want to go?"

"Well I would like to get something to eat, preferably down in the Presidium, assuming it's recovered." The Shadow replied.

"That sounds good." She said.

"What?" The Shadow asked suspiciously. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"

"No. Nothing at all." She answered.

"So, we've got the whole day to ourselves." The Shadow concluded.

"Seems so." She said.

"Just the two of us. Alone." The Shadow said, quite gleefully.

"W- well unless you want to check in with the others first, maybe?" She suggested.

"No no, I'm fine. Let's go, shall we?" The Shadow snapped dismissively, urging the Demolisher to lead them out of the room.

"Okay then." She complied.

And so, it came to be that the Shadow got two things that day. Some much needed fresh air, and more time with the Demolisher. She had waited so long, she doubted very much that she would grow tired of her presence. What would become of the day, neither of them knew just yet, though one thing was abundantly clear. They shared an apartment, and the last time they stayed there, they ended up sharing a bed. And since the Shadow was practically glued to the Demolisher's arm...

* * *

"I believe it's this one." A certain quarian by the name of Hans said to a certain vorcha by the name of Cupcake, coming up behind him.

"You sure this time?" The vorcha asked, quite uncertain in the quarian's navigational skills.

"Positive." Hans remarked, only sounding a little bit uncertain, pressing the panel for a elevator he was sure would take them to Huerta Memorial Hospital.

The doors opened and the duo stepped in. It struck Hans in particular, just how spacious the elevator was, since he was far used to them being cramped and full of people with conflicting destinations, as life in the Migrant Fleet was usually like.

"See, there it is: Huerta Memorial Hospital." He remarked, noticing the hospital in the selections of destinations on the interactive panel.

"Well done." Cupcake remarked. "And it only took you.."

"Shut up." Hans cut him off.

The pair stood, side by side as the little elevator sped up the length of the Citadel towards its goal. Looking outside the window, the quarian was almost awestruck as he noticed the grand size of the Citadel. It was particularly strange because, it was technically a space station, and in essence a very large ship. Yet, Hans' experiences with space stations and ships had always been ones of immense closure and a general lack of privacy. With all the space on the Citadel why, it was quite a thing of splendour; yet he was only just noticing this now, despite being here on occasion before. Perhaps seeing such a site after the drama of a Cerberus attack had opened him up to a very new perspective on... giant space stations.

"What makes you think she'll even want to see you?" Cupcake's snarl suddenly interrupted his pondering, seeming a greater distance away.

"Hmm... oh right. Well, what makes you think she'll want to see you?" He managed to ask back.

"She will want to thank me, because I saved her from certain death." Cupcake declared quite proudly. "You made her cry."

"Hold up there, you aided in that." Hans hastened to defend himself.

"Yeah, but then I apologised, and then I save her from certain death." Cupcake reiterated, still in an arrogant manner.

"Well then..." The quarian struggled to counter. "I guess I have to properly apologise for my rude behaviour towards her, then."

"So..." Cupcake replied. "What makes you think she'll even want to see you?"

"Well I umm. Don't really know." Hans admitted, sounding quite regretful.

As if answering to him, the elevator stopped its ascent and the doors promptly slid open, the sight of Huerta Memorial Hospital greeting them, in all its glory. Cramped, cluttered with all manner of different species and such going about varying business with little regard for privacy. No wonder Hans felt quite at home upon exiting the lift.

"Right, just got to find a doctor or someone..." Hans was about to say, when something distracted him.

"Hi you two." A vaguely familiar voice called to them from the side.

The two turned to greet it, and noticed the figure of a man to whom the voice belonged to standing quite idly by the elevator. It took him a while but eventually, Hans recognised the man who the vaguely familiar voice belonged to.

"Hey look who it is Cupcake." He turned to the vorcha. "You're the err..."

"Paladin." Cupcake reminded him.

"How'd you remember that?" Hans suspiciously queried his accomplice.

"Because I said nice things about him." The Paladin entered the conversation. "Didn't I Cupcake?"

"I'd make a good N7." The vorcha recalled fondly.

"And I stand by it." The Paladin acknowledged. "Now, just what are a vorcha and a quarian doing in a hospital. Not exactly your type of place is it?"

"Well, we were hoping..." Hans began. "That we could maybe have a few moments with Miss Diana."

"Miss... who?" The Paladin asked back.

"Miss Diana Schatten. The Shadow, as I recall." Hans reprimanded him. "Weren't the two of you comrades once?"

"Shadow? Oh of course, Shadow." The Paladin remembered all of a sudden. "Funny, when you call them by their designation, it practically becomes their name. Yeah, you just missed her."

"Missed her?" Hans said. "As in, she's not here anymore?"

"Nope." The Paladin simply stated.

"But she was seriously hurt." Cupcake spoke up all of a sudden. "Is she okay? Can we see her?"

"She's fine, considering her state." The Paladin replied quite casually. "And this is probably not a good time to be seeing her."

"What? Why not?" Cupcake said, getting quite concerned now.

"She's with a friend." The Paladin simply said. "A very close friend."

"A very... I don't get it." Cupcake said, starting to sound quite angry.

"Well actually, since you put it that way." Hans reentered the conversation. "We can wait until we're deployed again to speak to the Shadow."

"That's probably for the best." The Paladin said.

"But why?" Cupcake said, irritated. "Why can't I..."

"Excuse me sir!" Another voice drew their attention away from each other. "If you're not going to be staying, could you please take your conversation somewhere else!"

The three turned to see a human; a woman clad in a uniform suggesting she was a doctor coming towards them, eyes bent on Cupcake.

"...Sorry human." He said quietly the moment she closed the gap and was about to give him a proper lecture.

"Thank you sir." She replied, quite courteously. "Now, as I said, if the pair of you don't have any business here, you really should be going. As for you sir- ah!"

She let out a sharp, intake of breath the moment she properly took into account the Paladin's face.

"Oh!" He cried out, taking in a similar intake of breath.

"Umm." Cupcake muttered to himself, his confusion shared by Hans.

"D... Dad." The woman said breathlessly.

"Oh, hi!" The Paladin exclaimed incredibly nervously.

"Dad?" Cupcake repeated, a word that was lost on him.

"Well I think it was high time we were leaving." Hans piped up, understanding what Cupcake did not. "Come on Cupcake."

"No wait..." The Paladin cried out, suddenly finding their presence far more tolerable than before.

But his quiet plea had fallen on deaf ears, for already Hans had pulled the bewildered Cupcake over to the elevator, the doors hastily closing, instantly barring them from view. Leaving him all alone with the woman, in a room filled with people, who fortunately had other priorities and paid them little heed. Still...

"Dad. It is you, isn't it?" The woman continued to ask of the Paladin, completely forgetting that she had ever seen a vorcha or a quarian.

"Umm... yes. Yes it is." The Paladin found himself confessing quite pitifully.

"Oh my god. Oh my... oh it is you, is t it!" She repeated, quickly losing breath and rolling her hands over her head in a panic. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Well I was... checking in on a few friends." He replied, not caring to provide an honest answer and more thinking of a wag out of this predicament.

"Oh of course. Bet you didn't even know I was working here." His newfound daughter taunted him, somewhere between anger and sadness. "Can you even remember my name?"

"Course I can..." He said unconvincingly. "...Sasha?"

"Sarah!" She barked back.

"Sarah? Oh of course, Sarah." The Paladin was reminded. "Umm, sorry."

"Oh my god." Sarah continued to curse this situation she had now found herself in. "Damn damn, damn I don't need this right now, I've got patients and..."

"You're absolutely right." He said. "Sorry to bother you. I'll be going..."

The Paladin made an effort to turn away from his daughter and head to the elevator. But the instant he made the slightest movement, she immediately grabbed both his arms.

"No! No, don't you even think of doing that! You go out that door and I'll never see you again." She cried out in a shrill tone, causing him no end of uncomfortableness.

"Now hold on a second..." He tried to explain himself.

"Don't you even deny it." She continued. "We're going to meet and we're going to talk damnit!"

"Oh. Alright." The Paladin found himself agreeing. "Is... there any place in particular you want to meet?"

"Dark Star Lounge. You know it?" Sarah asked him.

"Umm, sure, I guess." He replied, trying to rack his brain.

"Meet me there in three hours. That's when I finish." She ordered him.

"...Okay then." He found himself agreeing.

"Please, Dad." Sarah continued. "Please tell me you'll meet me there. Please don't run off again."

The Paladin found himself struggling to form a reply. If there was one thing in this wartime he imagined he did not need right now, it was a family reunion. Yet, looking at his daughter looking at him, it struck him as an awful thing to do what he was considering doing the moment he entered the elevator.

"I promise I'll be there." He found himself saying.

"Thanks Dad." His daughter replied, sounding quite hopeful and pleasant for a change.

The Paladin took that as a sign to leave. But once again, as soon as he made a move, she was on him. However, it was not a sudden grab of anger, but a soft hug as she dug her head into his chest and bore her arms around his back. The Paladin felt funny...

"I've gotta go." She said after their brief embrace, pulling herself away from him. "Bye Dad."

And, quick as a flash, she retreated back into the hospital, leaving the Paladin alone by the elevator. As if it was responding to him its doors suddenly shifted open, nearly causing him to stumble backwards into it. The Paladin was feeling strange...

"I don't understand, what was all that about?" Cupcake was angrily asking his quarian teammate as the pair of them exited the elevator.

"Cupcake. Cupcake." Hans struggled to begin. "You're a vorcha. You can't begin to understand how complicated issues like these are."

"Why not?" The vorcha snarled at him.

"Because... because you don't understand long term relationships." The quarian clumsily countered.

"You're not making any sense. What's time got to do with those two back there?" Cupcake continued, clearly not satisfied with his answer.

"Cupcake... "Hans had finally formed a proper response. "I'm going to tell you something very important now. Please don't interrupt me, okay?"

Cupcake glanced at him, but seemed to understand. "Okay..."

"Cupcake..." He began. "You're a vorcha. You live short lives, you form tribes. You don't care much for committing to any one person or place, you adapt to your current situation and you move on. It's quite an admirable outlook. But for the rest of us longer lived organics, we tend to spend more time around other people. We form relationships, we have these long term attachments to people, you understand?"

The vorcha nodded, remembering his former instructions.

"Well sometimes, we tend to split apart." He continued. "There's a falling out and we distance ourselves from each other. Now when two people get back together, there's usually some err, leftover emotions that make it kind of an unpleasant thing to witness. I guess what I'm trying to say is: whatever our friend Paladin's relationship with that lady back there, it's something quite personal, which means it's something outsiders like us shouldn't be involving ourselves in."

Cupcake was silent for a change. He was clearly effected by this small token of wisdom.

"You understand?" Hans asked him.

"I, think so." The vorcha answered slowly. "But... what was the deal with the Shadow? Why can't we see her now?"

"Cupcake." Hans began. "I'm going to tell you another thing. Promise me you won't tell the Shadow this."

"...Okay." Cupcake said.

"Now." The quarian said. "On one of the more quiet nights out on the front. When you were out on one of your err... _long_ walks among the dead. Back at the camp, me and the Shadow were having a discussion of sorts. She had been drinking some of the cheap stuff, so she was getting pretty talkative."

Cupcake quietly chuckled to himself. It was quite a treat to see the Shadow after she had had more than a few to drink.

"Well anyway." Hans resumed. "She started to... confide in me. Started telling me some pretty confidential things about herself. Well, one of the things she said was that, there was this friend of hers, in her former squad of N7s. A woman who she err... seemed to have something of a crush on. I'm willing to bet that this close friend of hers and her crush are one and the same."

"...So." Cupcake said. "Your point being?"

"My point being..." Hans said quite irritated. "If there is one person I know the Shadow would absolutely want to see while she's out with someone she is deeply infatuated with. It would have to be... me."

"Oh." The vorcha remarked. "So... what do we do now?"

"Well, we can do anything." Hans said. "I believe we have this day and tomorrow of this little break before it's back to the front."

It suddenly occurred to him to bring up his Omni-Tool, which he soon did. Checking the orange arm, he mused over articles and information concerning just what entertainment there was for a quarian and a vorcha on the Citadel in wartime.

"Say, the Silversun Strip's not too far from here." He remarked upon analysing his Tool. "Why don't you head off and see if there's an arcade game you can spend hours on?"

"An arcade!" Cupcake exclaimed with a good deal of enthusiasm. "Wait, aren't you coming along?"

"What am I, your babysitter?" Hans refuted him.

"So what are you going to do?" Cupcake asked.

"I think I'm going to take a long nap." Hand responded, with a good deal of enthusiasm.

"Oh, okay." Cupcake acknowledged.

"Well." Hans said. "What are you waiting for? Go on then."

"Oh, yes." Cupcake said, before taking off in the direction of the Silversun Strip, bringing up his Omni-Tool.

Hans waited until he was a good deal away before taking off in another direction. He was not looking for any place in particular, only somewhere with no people about, preferably enclosed with a good deal of background noise. A place where he could sit down, cloak himself indefinitely, tilt his head and drift off into a gentle slumber. The Citadel, with its large, vibrant spaceship like atmosphere seemed like the perfect reminder of the Migrant Fleet. He soon found the ideal spot: a fairly long hallway with long benches with nobody about. Satisfied, he cloaked, settled himself down at the helm of a bench, and was just about to drift off into an easy sleep.

That is, until he bumped into something right next to him. The quarian did not have the time to react, as whatever object it was he felt appeared to be invisible. He toppled into it, causing it to tumble off the bench and onto the floor, followed shortly by him, only now just realising what was happening. Hans got to his feet in surprise, turning to see what it was that he had hit, and found himself under a second layer of surprise as an _asari_ shimmered into view on the floor before him.

"Non può una donna finire un sogno qui intorno!" She cried out in a strange tongue.

"...Umm, excuse me?" Hans found himself asking.

The asari turned to face him. She analysed his form for only a moment, before she suddenly let out a shrill cry.

"Oh Goddess. I slipped up, the quarians! They're allied with Cerberus! Please, have mercy kind sir, I'm just a young naive asari. No need to take out the Harrier, please!" She rambled out, much more understandable, but no less incomprehensible.

"Are you feeling alright, miss?" He queried her.

The asari paused in her alarmed motions, slowly analysing her surroundings.

"Hang on a second." She said as she looked about. "Oh no. How long have I been out? Quick, is my name still Coreen?"

"I don't know." He responded. "Is your name Coreen?"

"Who me?" The asari continued. "Why yes, I am Coreen. Good, that's still there. Now I have to figure out just what the quarians are doing allied with Cerberus..."

"Perhaps it would be better, miss." Hans suggested. "If you were to find yourself a proper bed and get yourself a proper rest."

"Why? Why... why that's an excellent idea." Coreen the asari replied enthusiastically. "I must definitely recharge my powers, and then I will know for sure what's really going on here. Excuse me sir!"

Coreen hopped to her feet, taking a moment to stretch herself before brushing past Hans, right off to... somewhere. The quarian looked back at the set of benches he was just about to take a nap on before his interruption. Suddenly, they did not look quite as appealing as he remembered them looking...

* * *

The Demolisher could not remember the last time she had a good long meal to herself by now. She tried to rack her brain trying to think of any previous instances where she had a proper meal with proper courses. Yet the only instance she could remember was all the way in the peaceful days before the war. Ever since then, she had to make do with rations and the like; not exactly ambrosia, but it was all the higher ups could afford to give to their many fighters stretched across the galaxy keeping the Reapers at bay. As she ate, she could not help but cast glances down her figure. She did not seem weaker, most likely due to spending most days in the thick of fighting, but she could not help but feel thinner.

A fairly mundane thing to worry about. It was not like she even had a figure to care about, what with it all being concealed most of her waking hours beneath her metal suit. And the only one who really seemed to have any concern with it had not one complaint to make about her; at least, so far.

"You alright?" She heard her teammate across from her say, snapping her back to reality.

The Demolisher was strangely caught of guard by her query. "Sure I am. How's your leg..."

"Better, now that I'm outside." The Shadow replied.

The Demolisher went back to her meal, careful not to look at the Shadow.

"You're being quiet." The Shadow observed.

"...I've always been quiet." She quite clumsily replied.

"It's a lot more transparent than before." The Shadow retorted.

"Oh, is it really?" She said. "Sorry."

"It's fine." The Shadow replied, with a subtle hint of cheek. "You're kind of..."

"Yes!" She suddenly exclaimed.

"...Kind of cute." The Shadow replied.

"Oh am I. Of course I am." She found herself agreeing, without really hearing what she was saying.

The Demolisher suddenly became aware of the fact that she was keeping her head down, looking at her meal or her lap when there was nothing really worth seeing. Attempting to fight this strange compulsion, she raised her head to see the Shadow, and found her smiling at her. Even when the Demolisher was looking at her right in the eye, still she cheerily gazed back, looking quite like she was ready to giggle the moment the Demolisher made a clumsy move. She found it unusually difficult to continue looking the Shadow in the eye, and promptly turned her back down.

She decided to make an attempt at finishing her meal, if only to give her something to do other than to continue looking embarrassed. That did not take too long at all, as she found out, and looking up after finishing she found the Shadow still with the same composure, her meal long gone by now.

"Do you feel like taking a walk?" The Shadow asked her, seeing that they were both done.

"What? Oh, sure." She carelessly replied. "Are you, gonna be alright?"

"Course I will." The Shadow said dismissively.

She took a deep breath before making an effort to get up into a standing position. The Demolisher watched her, herself posed as she expected the Shadow would slip up and tumble, and she would be there to dash to her rescue when she did. Yet the Shadow did not loss her balance as she anticipated, and managed to remain standing in a stable, yet strained position. The Demolisher got to her feet, quickly pacing to the Shadow's side, just in case she lost her balance.

"Impressive Shadow." She said with admiration, though caution was still present in her tone.

"I'm shocked you underestimated me, Demo." The Shadow retorted, sounding hurt. "Though I could do with some support. Could I hold your hand?"

"Hold my... hand?" The Demolisher parroted back. "Are you sure about that?"

"Why, is there something wrong about that?" The Shadow said, almost daring her to say yes.

"Well not really. It's just, a little personal." She explained.

"Yeah, because we haven't done anything like that before." The Shadow remarked with obvious sarcasm.

"Oh okay." She relented. "Just let me pay for this and we'll be on our way..."

"Amazing how fast they've recovered from the attack, don't you think?" The Shadow remarked upon noticing the image of the Presidium, looking just as scenic as ever.

"Well I hear Cerberus didn't really have time to do much damage." The Demolisher said. "That, and the keepers are pretty good at... keeping the place tidy."

"Mmm." The Shadow muttered in concurrence.

The Demolisher could feel her hand in her grasp as they walked. The Shadow's hand were composed, collected and calm. The Demolisher's hand was in a similar arrangement, though she was fighting to keep it that way, for being in such proximity to the Shadow was starting to make her a little fatigued, for some reason. Yet her, friend either had not noticed, or simply did not care.

"This seems like a good spot." She remarked.

The Shadow stopped, the Demolisher naturally following suit. On their left was the railing, behind which the lush Presidium lakes flourished; whilst to their right was a bench on the path. The Shadow promptly left the Demolisher's grasp and eased herself onto the seat, sighing as the walk seemed to have left quite the impact on her fatigued leg.

"Well, don't just stand there." She said, noticing the Demolisher... just standing there.

"Oh right." She replied quite absentmindedly, settling herself next to the Shadow.

They sat in silence for a while, simply taking in the scenery. The Demolisher observed the lake in front of her, and started to feel quite sluggish as if in a trance. The currents gently flowing along, the watery scent, the slight bustle of the greenery behind them, and the pleasant stillness were having quite the effect on her. For the life of her, she could not remember the last time she had seen a sight like this. She had grown more than accustomed to the sight of war torn battlements and abandoned ruins; it was comforting to know that a small part of the galaxy still existed in some measure of tranquility, even if Cerberus had somewhat tainted it. She practically forgot she was alone there...

"So, Demo." The Shadow brought her back to it.

"Mmm?" She nodded.

She expected an answer soon after. Yet, a good ten seconds or so went by in silence. She looked to the Shadow opposite her, and found her with a pained expression on her face.

"What is it?" She asked with concern. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No... no I'm not." The Shadow replied, breathing quite loudly. "... Demo. Demo Demo Demo. Why do I insist on calling you that?"

"You can call me Grace of you like?"  
She remarked.

"Grace? Grace! You know it's funny, but I almost completely forgot that was your name." The Shadow said bitterly.

"It's understandable, Diana. "The Demolisher casually brushed her off.

"Oh, but you remembered my name." The Shadow said, still angry with herself. "You remember when we didn't have to use these ridiculous tags!"

"I admit, it does get a little jarring." She said. "But they're only names. Hardly something to get worked up over."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." The Shadow responded a little more upbeat.

"But I imagine you didn't want to talk about names, did you?" She continued. "There something you want to say?"

"Say? Yes, yes there is." The Shadow replied. "It's just... that... Demo. What'd you thinks going on here?"

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"Between us. What's going on?" The Shadow elaborated. "We're... friends, aren't we?"

"Of course." The Demolisher stated.

"Good friends." The Shadow continued.

"Yes." She acknowledged.

The Shadow leaned in close. "Grace?"

"Yes Diana?" She said.

"Grace, I want... I want... I want for us. To be... to be together, Grace. Like. Like, properly together. You know... like, partners... you know?" The woman confessed.

Grace Cohen felt kind of hot. Well actually, she felt kind of relieved. Some part of her had known all along of her teammate's intent, so it really should not have come as a surprise. Yet it did, and here she was trying to figure it all out.

"So... I guess what you're trying to say is..." She began.

"I love you." Diana confessed again.

"Like, properly I love you?" Grace checked.

"Yes, like one hundred percent I love you." Diana exclaimed irritably.

"I see... just had to make sure." She remarked. "...Of course you do."

She took a good long time trying to understand it. It really really really should not have come as much of a surprise as it was. She felt strange...

"So..." Diana said.

"So, what?" She asked back.

"So... what's your reaction?!" The woman almost shouted.

"My reaction?" She said alarmed. "Oh my reaction. My reaction is... I don't know what my reaction is. What do you think my reaction should be?"

"What do I... I want your reaction to be yes! What do you think I want it to be?" Diana said, almost hysterical.

"Oh yes. I mean..." Grace felt herself going in a loop. "Yes, I don't... no. Oh... ooooh... Oh!"

"Yes?" Diana asked eagerly.

"Oh!" She continued. "Oh nn... Oh well... Oh... fuck it!"

And before she knew what she was doing, she brought up both her arms, took hold of the other woman's face, and smacked her lips against hers in one long, venereal, apologetic, assertive kiss. It was only when she properly comprehended the fact that her tongue was in another woman's mouth, rolling quite freely about did she _attempt_ to try and pull it out. _Attempt_.

Eventually the two did pull out, due to want of air. The redheaded Grace had a look of shock and confusion upon her as she started breathing heavily; while the raven haired Diana looked almost heavenly, her eyes shut in happiness as she licked her lips exploitively.

"Oh my god! What have we done!" Grace exclaimed shrilly. "We've... committed."

Diana opened her eyes to look at the woman in front of her. She swore she had never seen a more beautiful sight.

"That's right. We have." She seductively replied.

She moved her body closer, placing a hand on the woman's knee. Grace almost jumped a foot off the bench as she felt those delicate fingers fondle her thigh. She managed to maintain her composure, grabbing the bench below her for support as she started breathing heavily.

"What is it... Demo?" The raven head asked. "Please tell me you're not having second thoughts."

"Well... no." The redhead replied. "It's just... is this going too fast for you? I mean, it's all so sudden."

"Oh. I'm sorry if you feel that way." Diana said, taking her hand of her knee and placing it on her shoulder. "But I've felt this way about you for a long time..."

Grace was silent, trying to figure things out. All this was a little more than what she was ready for.

"You do care for me, don't you?" Diana continued. "When you learned I was hurt. You knew it was something a little more, didn't you?"

Grace was still silent. Diana brought her hand up to hold her face in a gentle embrace.

"Yeah I did." The redhead spoke at last. "I just... don't know where this came from. One moment we're friends, the next..."

Diana gently moved the redhead's head so they were face to face. The pair of them smiled, simply taking each other in, before they kissed again. Not nearly as sudden or forceful as before; but rather gentler, with a little more heart and a little less passion. When they parted yet again, they simply sat there in the moment, observing each other. It felt far longer than it really was.

"So... Shadow?" The redhead asked. "What now?"

"I'm pretty tired, Demo." The raven head remarked. "I'd like to go home now."

"Do you need help with your leg?" She asked.

"Maybe. I think it might have gone to sleep." She replied.

The Demolisher and Shadow slowly got up, taking a brief moment away from each other to stretch their legs before they once again joined hands, and went off along the Presidium.

* * *

The Silversun Strip was a very different part of the Citadel than down beside the lakes of the Presidium. For one thing, neither water nor privacy could be found here; it was a crowded, colourful and loud clamourous place. Situated within the clustered wards, a great variety of entertainment venues occupied this place; one in particular being the Silver Coast Casino, a glamourously venue that drew in a consistently large crowd despite the wartime atmosphere. Even an attack by Cerberus had not made much of an impact on potential gamblers. Perhaps, with the galaxy in the bleak state it was in, did prospectors feel they had little to loss when it came to high stakes games of luck.

Above the Casino's first floor with its wide variety of games of fortune was a bar. This was a place for people on the Silversun to go to if they needed to have a fairly relaxed time drinking or maybe try take a twirl on the dance floor. Alternatively, it catered to customers from down below on the Casino floor, either dancing up to celebrate a big win, or slouching up to drink their sorrows away.

Sufficed to say, turian Tarkin the Ghost Infiltrator belonged to neither crowd. He was simply up there because he needed some time alone. Alone from the ordeal of the previous day. Usually he did not drink on the eve of battle, but usually he did not expect that Cerberus could have conceivably attacked the Citadel, so it was understandable. What he was struggling to understand was why did he chose to come here, of all places if he was in the need for a drink. There were plenty of bars and clubs on the Citadel; he could have gone to the Dark Star Lounge, a favourite of his, or even... Purgatory.

He had his suspicions, like maybe he was feeling quite bold and was entertaining thoughts of playing one of the many games of luck down below. Or maybe, because a place like the Silversun seemed to attract people like him, for he could have sworn he heard a pair of asari on the main floor discussing tactics that sounded quite similar to the kind he did. Or maybe, the simplest answer was likely the correct one, and that was that he had never been here before and felt like trying something new and fresh.

At any rate, he liked it here, listening to the music and observing the various species try their hand at dancing. Sometimes, he just needed to be alone. Well, that did not last long...

"Umm, excuse me?" He heard a voice behind him go.

Tarkin had his head down staring at his dwindling glass. He suspected that this voice he was hearing was not directed at him, but rather to another patron, so he paid it no heed. That is, until it went again...

"Sir?" He heard, followed by a gentle tap on his shoulder.

Somewhat intrigued, somewhat annoyed, he made the effort to turn around, quite difficult considering he had more than a few. Facing him was... a turian woman. A rare sight, at least on the Citadel, well actually, anywhere that was not Palaven. Tarkin had been gone from his homeworld for so long he had almost forgotten just what a female of his species looked like.

"...Yes?" He said, a little sluggish, owing to his liquor intake, and the fact that he was not an ideal turian male when confronted with a turian female.

"This, may sound weird." The turian woman said, her agitation more than apparent. "But are you the Ghost Infiltrator?"

Tarkin began to entertain notions that perhaps he had drifted off and was indulging in a vane dream. It seemed far too peculiar to be valid, but he decided to go along with it regardless.

"Yes." He said simply, almost identical to his previous statement.

"Oh my." She went in awe. "It's, an honour sir. I... I'm a really big fan of your work."

"My work?" Tarkin asked, curious as to what kind of work he did that warranted a fan club.

"Oh you don't... well of course you don't." The woman continued. "Your exploits against, the Reapers and Cerberus. The things you and your team have done on the front. The reports they get out, the kill counts, the objectives completed, stuff like that. The Ghost Infiltrator is very popular."

"Is he?" Tarkin said, now silently praying that he was not in a dream, for this was raising his mood considerably.

"He is indeed." She responded, her tone becoming quite elated. "The way you... do everything. It's a remarkable style of fighting. I never actually thought I'd ever see you in person. I just wanted to say again, it's an honour."

"Would you like to have drink with me?" He found himself offering. "I'm kind of eager to hear more about, me."

"Oh, really?!" She said, looking like she was about to faint. "Absolutely. I mean, that's very generous sir, thanks!"

"Alrighty then, what are you having?" Tarkin acknowledged, getting up to get another round.

As he made his way to the bar and back, Tarkin found himself in something of a conflict. He could not make up his mind whether he was excited about talking to a fan that meant talking about how awesome he was as a Ghost Infiltrator. Or rather, was he excited about talking to a woman. A turian woman.

"So, I imagine someone with an interest like yours would be deployed themselves, right?" Tarkin asked, somewhat cryptically as the two sat.

"Yes, that's right. I've only been fighting for a couple weeks." The woman replied. "Don't nearly have the experience that you have, but it's a start."

"Really, what kind of style fits you?" He continued, intrigued.

"I'm... err." She stumbled, a nervous tone talking her once more. "I'm in... well it's kind of complicated, sir?"

"How so?" He asked.

"Well because I'm... in the Cabal. Biotics." She confessed.

"Oh... I see." Tarkin noted. "Well that explains it, I guess."

His disposition towards this turian woman went in an entirely different direction. If he belonged to a different race, he would not have had any reason to be suspicious of turian biotics; sure they were fairly rare, but other species did not attach a stigma towards their biotics like the turians did. For one whose whole life had been the military, like Tarkin; he had been taught to treat the rare commodities that were biotics with some disdain. There was something untrustworthy about a soldier bred apart from the rest, brought up on with entirely different tactics, always held in reserve and apart from the rest of the force, shrouded in suspicion.

"I'm sorry. I should have said sooner." The Cabal confessed with shame.

"You know something." Tarkin said. "It's silly to hold such attitudes towards those that are different. And believe me, I'm dealing with a far stranger individual than a Cabal."

"Really?" She remarked hopefully. "Well that's a relief."

"Though I have to admit." He continued. "I am sort of curious to see you in action."

"Why thank you sir." She replied. "Though I'm nowhere near your league. And to be fair, we Cabals are a little hard to see for anymore than a few seconds. I mean, have you ever seen anyone phase through several walls before?"

"Can't say I have." He replied. "Though you've obviously been keeping an eye on the Ghost Infiltrator. And I pride myself on not being seen for anymore than a few seconds."

"Huh, that's a good point sir." The Cabal remarked. "We seem to have a thing or two in common."

Tarkin faintly laughed to himself at the peculiarity of their situation.

"Seems so." He said. "Too bad there's not another Cerberus invasion. Now I'm a little more than curious to see, or at least try and see how a Cabal fights."

"Well actually. Now that you mention." She pointed out. "That Armax Arsenal Arena down the way puts on several combat tournaments. If you're game, we could head over there and try out a few matches against some Cerberus projections."

"Is that so." Tarkin replied, intrigued.

He could feel his talon hands itching, particularly for the grip of a rifle. Suddenly he was so sluggish, as a boldness took him and he started to entertain notions of strapping himself into his Ghost Infiltrator, cloak and propulsion packs at the ready, eager to engage in some combat, however artificial it may be. And he would be fighting alongside a Cabal, a unit he was usually forbidden from ever seeing. And s devout fan of his at that, likely eager to see her idol in action. _And a woman too_.

He turned in his seat. At that instant, a severe draining feeling returned to his head, and his limbs began feeling very heavy. A likely combination of him already being in an relaxed state, as well as having more than a few rounds in him.

"Actually, I'd better not." He returned to the conversation. "You probably wouldn't want to see a turian under the influence use propulsion packs."

The Cabal chuckled. "No, I probably wouldn't. Though maybe, if you happen to have a free slot in your squad, we could deploy together when we go back out there."

"Sorry, no luck there." Tarkin refuted her. "Already got a pretty solid team. Me, N7, krogan... err."

"Oh?" She queried.

"It's complicated." He clumsily replied. "He's a strange kind of guy."

"Stranger than a Cabal?" She asked.

"Maybe." He answered.

"Really? Well don't worry about it." The Cabal moved on. "Say, whens your next shore leave. Perhaps we could meet up then."

"Ah, I'm afraid we don't plan that far ahead." Tarkin said.

"Oh well." She said, hardly disappointed in the slightest.

She finished up her drink with surprising haste, indicating...

"Well I'm afraid I have to be off." She stated. "Again, wonderful meeting you Ghost Infiltrator, but I've an early call in the morning."

"Nice meeting you, Cabal." Tarkin replied. "Say, I didn't get your name?"

"No. You didn't." The Cabal acknowledged before, to his surprise, giving him a farewell kiss.

And soon after, she got up and left his sight down the steps to the Casino's main floor and out onto the Strip.

It would seem that Tarkin was not so alien to talking to woman. Well, at least the ones who were his number one fans anyway...

* * *

If Tarkin had instead chosen to settle down for a drink in the Dark Star Lounge, he would have likely ran into his fellow comrade, the Paladin. And while the Paladin was usually one who preferred to be alone at most times, it was an exception then that he would have liked to have someone he knew along for the ride. For this little meeting was not something he had ever expected to do today; yet here he was, alone in a booth in the Dark Star Lounge waiting for his... relative. He had half a mind to simply get up and leave quickly before that eventual encounter, he may have felt bad about it later on, but it seemed preferable to whatever revelations he would face by staying.

Yet he did not, and here he remained nonetheless. The suspense was killing him; in order to ensure he arrived on time, he presented himself at the Dark Star Lounge a full thirty minutes or so before the scheduled three hours had come to pass. It was not like he had anything important to be doing anyway; this was supposed to be the N7's day off, a respite before returning to the front. Yet the Paladin was never one for spending time with his associates having fun, and even if he was, he was in far too much of a state over this family reunion of his to even bother.

He checked the time; still had the appointed time not come to pass. The Paladin was growing distressed as the encounter drew closer nevertheless. Once again was he considering making a break for it, yet despite how easy such a thing would be for him to do, he remained where he was. It suddenly dawned on him just how alarming his sitting position was, as he surveyed himself. He decided to make a conscious effort into relaxing his stance, easing into the seat, trying to get his his nervous figuring under control. Finally, he closed his eyes and began breathing steadily, and found to his surprise, a sense of alleviation begin to take hold of him...

"Hey you!" Her voice sounded to his right, unusually close.

The Paladin was brought out of his ever so brief moment of serenity as his pulse started up another bout of fierce beating as he saw that the woman was standing right in front of his table.

"Oh, hi!" He said alarmed. "...Sarah?"

"Yes..." She replied with some suspicion.

"Oh good." The Paladin acknowledged. "Good to... see you?"

"Oh would you stop that." Sarah demanded, settling herself into the booth. "You know full well you don't want to be here."

The Paladin was at a loss for words. He had not expected her to be so honest.

"... yeah. Sorry." He replied, incredibly clumsily.

Sarah still had her doctors uniform on underneath a coat draped loosely around her shoulders. She certainly did not look like she belonged in a place like the Dark Star Lounge at all. The Paladin felt uncomfortable in comparison to her apparel; he would have much liked to be concealed beneath his N7 suit, with the many advantages it had. For one, he would not have to look at her looking at him looking at her with his anxious expressions.

"So..." He said.

"So." She acknowledged.

The Paladin felt really uncomfortable. It was almost like he had so many questions, and yet he had no questions. He was sincerely hoping she would start first, that way he could simply answer to the best of his ability. He would not have to worry then about saying something that would cause her to angrily cut him off.

"How have..." He attempted to begin.

"Oh of course you would say that!" Sarah exclaimed angrily.

See.

"Look Ser... Honey?" The Paladin attempted again. "Help me out here?"

"Oh sure I will." She flatly replied. "Ask you a question, right? That way you don't have to try too hard. Don't have to properly engage me, right?"

"Umm. Right?" He acknowledged.

"Okay, I'll ask you a question." Sarah began. "Firstly. What were you doing at the Hospital?"

"Well I..." He replied, sure she had already asked this before. "I was checking up on two friends."

"What kind of friends?" She continued. "_Those_ kinds of friends. Your... N7s."

"Yes, my N7s." He said. "Two of the women..."

Sarah let out a sign of discomfort. "I'm sorry..."

"Two wo..." He said, suddenly understanding. "No! No, not like that, they were just friends severely injured in the attack that's all."

"You... sure about that?" She asked disbelievingly.

"Of course I am!" The Paladin exclaimed.

Now he was the one starting to get hot and bothered. His Sarah was approaching a rather sensitive topic for them both.

"Look Honey." The Paladin said. "I know we've been out of touch for so long. But please don't ever make suggestions like that. You know it hurt me just as much as it hurt you to see her... to see her..."

He trailed off. He was lost in thought, for old, painful memories were beginning to surface. The Paladin could not help but get a little teary eyed. And in front of him, his Sarah had a pained expression on her face as she remembered it too.

"I'm sorry, Dad." She whimpered apologetically.

"It's alright, Honey." For once the Paladin did not react to being called Dad with such disdain. "Alright..."

The pair remained in silence for quite some time, the background clutter filling the gap.

"So..." Sarah began. "How've you been?"

"Oh!" The Paladin remarked absentmindedly. "Well I guess... I've been keeping good all things considered."

"You been making friends?" She added.

"Friends? Sure I guess." The Paladin mused. "I least I hope I have. It's kind of difficult to tell with the kinds I'm with. Turian, krogan..."

"Yes?" She said, sensing there was something more.

"It's nothing." He dismissed her. "But how about you?"

A nervous expression appeared over his daughter's face.

"Can I tell you something?" She said, edging closer.

"Go on." He said.

Sarah took a deep breath. "I'm scared, Dad."

She started breathing heavily, her eyes quite misty. The Paladin saw her hands shaking on the table; and without really thinking about it, he brought one of his own up and held them in a reassuring embrace.

"Tell me about it?" He asked sincerely.

His daughter looked him in the eye. "I've seen so many people die. Seen a lot get better but... there's only so much medicine to go round. Sometimes, we have to prioritise and... let some of them go. I'm having such a bad time sleeping. I'm on duty most of the time. Sometimes I can't concentrate and I get such bad headaches. If this war goes on for much longer... I don't think I'll make it."

It was only then that he became aware of her appearance. Her eyes were deep circles, her hair an unkempt mess and her clothes fairly ragged and scruffy. She looked hungry too.

"Is there anyone..." The Paladin began. "Close to you? Someone who cares about you?"

She managed a weak laugh. "I don't have time for that, Dad. I'm too stretched as it is."

"Honey. Please find someone. Someone that can help you get through this." He asked, sounding more than pained.

"Oh now you're starting to care." Sarah retorted, anger returning to her once again. " I'm curious, what would you have done had we never met, huh? Would you have been more than happy to go on pretending I don't exist."

"Now... no." He said defiantly, though he could not help but see the wisdom in her words. "But, I am beginning to see how... terrible I've been at keeping in touch with you."

"That's an understatement." She remarked.

"But Honey." The Paladin said. "Now that I'm back in your life, I'm starting to see how much you mean to me. So please, don't make me feel anymore bad. If you're hurting, please get help."

"Just why am I so special, anyway?" Sarah queried bitterly. "Just some doctor. Daughter, plenty just like me. Plenty who have died needlessly..."

She stopped when she noticed him looking. The Paladin felt wounded; more than wounded in fact. He felt... undone. To see his only child like this, practically on the verge of suicide, stretched thin and barely anything he could do to help. It was a very unpleasant kind of pain, far deeper than anything a Atlas rocket or Phantom blade could cut through. His head sunk to the table, his eyes staring blankly at their loose grip.

"Oh Dad." She said. "What's going to happen to us?"

"I don't know, Honey." The Paladin said.

He was quiet. Far more quiet than what he was used to.

"When do you leave?" She asked, quietly.

"...Day after tomorrow." He replied slowly.

"And when are you back?" She continued.

"...I don't know." He said.

"And you can't send any messages while you're away?" She asked.

"No." He replied flatly.

Sarah noticed his hands trembling. She readjusted the embrace the two had, trying to elect a response from the Paladin, who tried to return the feeling.

"If you do come back." She said. "I promise I'll still be here."

The Paladin looked up at her. "Appreciate that."

"And you promise you'll stay safe out there." Sarah requested.

"I promise." He responded.

"Thanks Dad." She said.

They said nothing after that, once again sitting contently, listening to the bustle of the Lounge behind them.

"Well, I have to be off." Sarah stated. "I have to stay near the Hospital in case anything serious turns up."

"Will you have any free time tomorrow?" The Paladin asked hopefully.

"Maybe a little." She said.

"Well, I'd like to see you again." He noted.

"Thanks Dad." She replied. "I'll contact you if I get some time off."

She got up, shaking slightly as her legs adjusted to being back up on the ground again.

"See you." She said.

The Paladin could only give a wave as he watched her leave the Lounge. The feeling of pain did not go away after that, and now that he was alone, another one began to creep up. One of immense regret and shame at himself. The Paladin felt as if he had just seen whole years of his life fill in empty spaces of his head one by one. A great sense of responsibility took hold of him. Suddenly this war seemed all the war bitter; all the time he imagined he could have spent with his daughter, this wretched war had consumed. The Reapers, Cerberus: they were his life now, his priorities. They were taking his Sarah, they had taken his wi...

The Paladin felt sick...

* * *

"That was a lot longer than I remember it." The Shadow mused as the pair of her and the Demolisher finally reached the front door of their apartment.

"I can only wonder what could be the source of that." Her companion snidely remarked.

"Okay, enough about the leg." She snapped back.

Shortly after their brief banter, the two were soon on the other side of the door and now safely within their home away from home. A relatively cost sight, granted to them back in the early stages of the war when the N7s could still call themselves civilians. The Demolisher tried to remember just how the pair of than had come to live together, yet it was unusually difficult for her to remember things about the two of them prior to their little commitment earlier on.

"You know what's strange?" The Shadow asked, moving over to one of the beds and sitting herself on its edge.

"No, what?" The Demolisher said, remaining standing by the door.

"If it wasn't for this dumb leg, we most likely would never have got together." She replied.

"You make it seem like it's been months." The Demolisher remarked.

"Well. I wouldn't mind that." She observed hopefully.

The Demolisher weakly chuckled to herself as that. The Shadow did not know whether to take that as a good or bad thing.

"Well, are you gonna just stand there?" She posed.

"Oh. Right." The Demolisher acknowledged.

The woman moved herself over to where the Shadow resided on the bed. She briefly noted the fact that there were two beds, her mind wandering back to when they had last slept here, before settling herself down besides the Shadow.

"So, what now exactly?" She asked.

"Well, I imagine we'll be going to sleep at some point." The Shadow answered.

"At some point." She acknowledged.

"Now, on one hand." The Shadow started. "I could really do with a bed all to myself on account of my leg. But on the other..."

She placed a hand on the Demolisher's knee, electing a sharp cry from her.

"Still pretty skittish there, Demo?" She observed. "You remember when we last shared a bed?"

"Surprised _you_ remembered that, considering the state you were in." The Demolisher said.

"Oh sure." The Shadow replied. "And now that you mention it, I haven't had a drink all day."

"Shocking isn't it." The Demolisher remarked.

"Well, I don't suppose this little apartment has something to my tastes." She said.

The Shadow got up from the bed and carefully maneuvered herself over to the kitchen area. The Demolisher watched her, partly with a feeling of caution in case she fell, yet also, with a slight seductive notion as she watched her the back of her body. Now, she realised that there was no shame in admitting she found the woman attractive; she imagined that was expected of her. Yet, with that in mind, she cast a look over her own figure, and was now driven by a strange feeling of concern over whether the Shadow would reciprocate those feelings. She did look quite thin, or at least, she imagined she did.

"Demo! Quick, come look at this!" She heard the Shadow exclaim.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Never mind that, I need to make sure you see this two!" The Shadow dismissed her.

The Demolisher obliged and got up from the edge of the bed to join her friend, standing in front of the open fridge.

"Do you see that?" The Shadow asked her.

"Yeah I see it." She replied.

"Tel me what you see?" The Shadow insisted.

"I see all that, umm... wine there." She noted the peculiar assortment inside.

"How many?" The Shadow continued.

"Umm, five." She obliged.

The Shadow giggled relief at the sight.

"Now wait a minute." The Demolisher was about to step in.

"Relax, would you Demo." The Shadow interrupted her. "Just one, alright. To share..."

"Ok. Well thanks." She acknowledged...

It was a good thing for her to see the Shadow enjoying herself. It was quite pitiful to see her completely wasted. Thankfully for her, the Shadow seemed to want to maintain her common sense about her, along with being really tired. So the two shared a bottle, enough for them to enjoy themselves and make them long for the sleep they more than needed.

"How's the leg now?" The Demolisher asked her as the two of them sat on rug, their backs pressed up against the walls and their shoulders brushing together, their heads occasionally bumping into.

"The Leg is just fine." Was her answer. "But the Shadow is starting to get a little jealous of all the attention."

"Alright alright." She said. "But if I'm sounding too clingy, it's because I'm concerned about you."

"Is that so?" The Shadow replied. "In that case, would you like to touch it?"

"Touch it?" She parroted.

"Yeah, touch it." The Shadow said.

"Umm... sure. Why not?" The Demolisher reasoned.

She moved forwards, reaching out with her hand and carefully placing it on the Shadow's wounded thigh. Through her clothes, there was nothing out of the ordinary about her leg, for she had not yet reached the more sensitive part. The Shadow was still laud back, with her head dropping to her shoulders sleepily. The Demolisher slowly moved her hand down, and was soon feeling the bandages beneath the cloth. She could have squeezed her grip and made out the feel of the mending flesh of the limp; but if she was even considering burdening the woman with unnecessary pain, then she was no Demolisher.

"Satisfied?" The Shadow asked ad she moved back up.

"Sure." She replied.

The Demolisher returned to resting her head against the wall while the Shadow progressively worked her way through the single bottle of wine. Showing considerable restraint, considering what the Demolisher knew her to be like around alcohol, especially in tough times of conflict like now. Eventually, the Shadow finished the bottle, with only a little bit of help from the Demolisher, and promptly yawned wide and loud.

"Tired are we?" The Demolisher noted, the sight causing her to yawn as well.

The Shadow did not reply, simply sitting beside her, humming slightly. The Demolisher decided that the two of them were long overdue for a good night's rest, and rose to her feet.

"Well come on." She noticed her partner still lying against the wall.

The Shadow nodded her head. "Hmm? Oh, right."

Slowly, she managed to get to her own feet, standing before the Demolisher, who showed brief concern for her leg before turning away to head to the wardrobe.

"Demo. Hey Demo?" The Shadow asked.

"Yeah?" She replied.

She expected a response in the form of words. What she ended up getting was something quite different. While she was busying herself by the bed, she felt arms creep around her waist. In an instant, her heart started up a suspiciously vigorous beat. She turned round, and predictably found the Shadow with her arms snaked around her torso, eyeing her seductively.

"Shadow, what are you doing?" She asked with a high pitch.

"Come on Demo, don't be dumb." The Shadow responded. "What's it look like I'm doing?"

The Demolisher could feel the Shadow's hands sneak up her back while the woman brought her face right up close, her tongue slowly stroking her lips in anticipation.

"Shadow." She began. "We've already established a relationship here."

"Well of course we have, silly." The Shadow replied. "I'm merely acting upon that."

"Now wait a second, Shadow." She did her best to explain. "Don't you think this is going a little too far? I mean, I'm alright with cozying together. But sex is..."

"Who said anything about having sex?!" The Shadow asked defensively. "All I want is a few tender moments is all."

"Oh, alright then." The Demolisher replied weakly, before the Shadow silenced her with her lips.

For the life of her, the Demolisher could not remember the last time she had actually kissed someone. It all seemed like there was a life before the war that was no longer accessible in her mind. So it was with some measure of clumsiness that she responded to the kiss. Luckily for her, the Shadow was more than eager to do all the work. The moment they pulled apart, still she had that same look of satisfaction on her.

"See, just a little tenderness is all." She said.

The Demolisher could only manage a faint laugh in return.

"Now if you don't mind, I think I'll slip into something a little more comfortable." She said, before leaving the Demolisher, taking some clothes from the wardrobe and heading for the bathroom.

"I can't believe you just said that." The Demolisher said to herself.

She promptly got ready for bed herself, fetching some nightwear and disrobing. At least she did not have to help the Shadow dress herself this time, she thought to herself as she finally got into bed, the soft covers and plump pillows almost causing her to fall asleep right there on the spot. Maybe she could just close her eyes for a moment...

"Well I'm back." She heard, before turning her head to see the Shadow standing right besides the bed.

"Oh, of course you are." She remarked quite redundantly.

The Shadow tilted her head at her. "Well, aren't you going to budge up?"

"Oh... right." The Demolisher acknowledged, shifting herself to allow the Shadow room.

And when the two of them were finally in the bed together, in such proximity to each other, the Demolisher felt... surprisingly relaxed about the whole thing. The Shadow wrapped her arms around her torso, so strikingly similar to how she had done before so many nights ago and lay with her head against her neck.

"Oh Demo." She said, with her eyes closed. "Thank you."

"For what?" The Demolisher asked.

"For saying yes." The Shadow replied. "Considering everything, the splitting up, the new team, the attack and this leg; I really didn't think I could ever get through this. Now that I have you: everything seems so much more manageable. Don't you think?"

"Yeah." The Demolisher noted.

"I love you girl." She continued.

"Yeah." The Demolisher replied.

The Shadow did not seem to catch that the Demolisher had said that last part with noticeably less enthusiasm. Or maybe she did and simply did not care. Either way, she had nothing left to say, as her breathing became deep and her body still and warm against her partner's embrace. The Demolisher held her protectively, resting her cheek against the Shadow's soft crop of hair, her arm around her shoulders.

Now the Demolisher may have forgotten about many things. But holding her teammate, her companion, her friend in this protective, loving embrace; there was one thing she was grateful to have forgotten about. She had forgotten there was a war on...

* * *

The Citadel had a confusing sense of humour when it came to the passage of time. Only the Presidium had something of a day and night cycle, leaving the rest of the gargantuan space station in a perpetual state of activity, with workers, residents and visitors to sort of make up a schedule for themselves, resting when they needed to...

"A strange way of telling the time here, isn't it?" The N7 Destroyer remarked.

"Whatever you say." The N7 Slayer replied, evidently not sharing his teammates' enthusiasm.

"I mean." The Destroyer continued, heedlessly. "Has it been one long day, or a period of days? Do they have calendars here?"

"How long have you been up?" The Slayer asked.

"I don't know." The Destroyer noted. "And being on the Citadel, it's hard to say if I even feel like I should be tired. So maybe I've been up for a really long time. Or a really short time."

"I have no idea what you're on about." The Slayer remarked.

"Oh come on." The Destroyer said defensively. "Isn't this fascinating?"

"I'm going to bed now." The Slayer remarked fatigued.

The Slayer was not one for indulging in the Destroyer's bizarre gossip. From his perspective, it was getting late, which meant he had spent one of the few days he had where he was not encased within his suit doing nothing at all relaxing or stress free. Well, at least there was tomorrow. Of the rest of the day. Or the past several hours. Whatever.

As for the Destroyer, he remained in the living area of the spacious apartment, situated somewhere within the Citadel wards, surrounded by constant activity. He yawned quite loudly to himself; a sign that maybe the time had finally come to get himself up to bed. The only thing preventing him from doing so, was the worry of sleeping for hours and messing up his delicate sleep patterns. It would not do for an N7 to be plagued by irregular bouts of fatigue when the time came to be out on the front once again. He was just about to make up his mind to finally submit to his exhausted limbs and finally head off to sleep, when he heard the apartment door go, as someone entered.

"Hey you." He heard the figure of the Fury call out to him.

"Oh. Hey you." He responded, a little confused. "You are..."

"Excuse me?" The Fury said, taken quite by surprise. "It's me."

"Oh, right. Sorry." The Destroyer replied. "The Fury. Or... Caroline?"

"Whatever's the easiest to remember." The Fury said.

"Sorry. It's hard trying to remember all the names right now." He defended himself. "Wait a minute... You got hurt, didn't you?"

"That's... one way of putting it." The Fury acknowledged.

"So, shouldn't you be in a hospital?" The Destroyer asked.

"Just got out as a matter of a fact." She replied.

"Just got out? Just what exactly did you have?" He asked, finding her recovery a little hard to believe.

"Oh you know." The Fury began. "Biotic stuff. Lost a lot of blood, but it was really nothing."

"Is that so?" He said.

"You know, you're not looking all too good yourself there." She remarked. "Are you okay?"

"Well... maybe." He vaguely responded.

"You look pretty tired." She observed his sullen face. "How long have you been up?"

"Well... I didn't really get some sleep after the attack." The Destroyer admitted.

"Well... that explains it." She replied. "How exactly have you managed to stay up for so long?"

"Well it's quite easy here on the Citadel." He explained. "Were you aware that these wards are always in motion. It's like there's no daytime. Which means, it's easy to be constantly awake."

"...That doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me." The Fury remarked.

"Oh. Well, I have been awake for a while." He said.

"Well, what's stoping you from going to sleep right now, huh?" She continued her queries.

"Nothing's stopping me." He replied. "In fact, I was just thinking of going to bed when you just walked in."

"Oh, so I'm stopping you, is that it." She asked.

"Hey I didn't say that." He defensively said.

"No, but it's obviously the reason why you're still awake." She reasoned. "So, how about you stop talking to me and get yourself a good night's rest."

"I might just do that." The Destroyer said. "Good night, Fury."

He got up, stretched his legs and made his way to his much needed room.

That is he would have, had he not been compelled to cast one last look back to the Fury before he would have turned a corner that would have completely blocked her from view. The Destroyer saw her sitting with her back to him, glancing out of the window, apparently lost in thought.

"You okay, Fury?" He found himself asking.

"What? Oh, of course I am." She answered, casting him a look over her shoulder, before turning back to stare out the window.

The Destroyer should have left it there and gone to the sleep that was so desperately calling out to him. Yet, he felt some strange sense of concern for his teammate, and was compelled to turn back to face her.

She did not seem to notice him return to her until he was right beside her. She turned to face him, looking quite confused as to his continued defiance to go to bed.

"I told you, I'm fine." She insisted.

_Blood began to seep from her eyes and mouth down her face..._

"Just wanted to make sure." The Destroyer said, innocently. "Just checking up on you."

_Her face a bloody mess..._

"Well thanks for being concerned I guess." She responded. "But really..."

_The Fury continued to retch and splutter, shaking her frail form..._

"Fury, you're, err..." He suddenly noticed. "Crying."

_Her eyes, surrounded by torrents of blood..._

"Oh am I?" She noticed.

She could feel the tears falling down her face. She reached up with a hand gently stroked her face free of the tears. Bringing her hand back down, she observed it briefly... before she noticed it was completely covered in blood.

The Destroyer did not at all expect her next action. The Fury screamed a shrill screech that nearly induced a heart attack in his weary self. A brief moment did her cry fill the room before it returned to silence, as the Fury sat with her voice completely stricken away, her eyes fixated on her hand... her completely bare hand.

The Destroyer attempted to hold her the moment he got over her sudden outburst. "What is it! What's wrong, what is it?!"

The Fury barely registered him grasping her, bearing his arms around her, trying to get her to look at him instead of her hand.

"Fury? Fury, look at me, Fury?" The Destroyer pleaded with her, holding her petrified form in a desperate grip.

He could feel how hot she was, her face stained by sweat and tears.

"Fury?" He continued. "Caroline, please?!"

Her eyes slammed shut. She opened them soon after, noticing that the hand that she had been staring at was being held in a gentle embrace by the Destroyer. She turned to face him, and a look of small relief washed over his face as she showed signs of a response.

"Oh I'm sorry." She said very quietly. "Just got a little spooked there. Nothing to worry about, it's only a minor crisis."

"The hell it is!" The Destroyer exclaimed in return. "Are you going to be alright? Do we need to get you back to the hospital?"

"Oh stop fussing." The Fury said, continuing to act dismissively. "I am an N7 after all. They suggested that I remain in care for a little while longer but I was having none of it, I don't want to remain a burden."

"Fury..." He pleaded.

"Please, if you don't mind..." She cut him off. "I'd prefer you call me Caroline."

"Car... fine." He relented.

"Thank you Frank." She replied.

The Destroyer was caught a little more than off guard by her little addendum. For a brief second, he was confused as to who she was referring to, but soon understood.

"Look. Caroline..." He began. "In your position I'd probably be the same way. But just because we're N7s doesn't mean we're not human."

"I appreciate the thought. I really do, but seriously..." She said. "I couldn't bear the thought of spending all this time in a hospital, taking up resource when I could be out fighting."

"So what, are you saying you like being in this war?" He dared to ask.

"No, I am not." She exclaimed. "But as long as it's on and I am in a state to fight, I can't just sit idly by, now can I?"

"And what's exactly stopping you from having another scare like just now?" The Destroyer was not so convinced by her.

"It was just a small reaction leftover from the attack, is all." She still insisted. "I mean, it's not like I was prepared to have Cerberus come in like that. I was caught off guard and had to react fast, honestly. If I was prepared for it, then I could have easily avoided such an episode. Surely you understand, don't you Frank?"

The Destroyer was silent, taking it all in. Despite how much he thought otherwise, he could not help but see the reasoning in the Fury's words.

"Aright..." He said after a while. "I'm convinced. But if something like this happens again, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Oh knock it off." She so easily dismissed him. "Besides, I'm a little more than concerned about you, you know."

"Excuse me?" The Destroyer asked.

"We haven't really had time to chat, Frank." The Fury elaborated. "I really want to know, are you doing alright?"

"Me? Of course I am." He said, starting to sound dismissively himself.

"Are you sure?" She continued.

"Well I suppose I could be a lot better." He reasoned. "Sure it was hard saying parting with everybody. But it could always be much worse. I'd say I've adjusted okay. Really what are you so concerned about?"

"You know what I'm on about." The Fury said. "I mean that suit you wear."

"My, suit?" The Destroyer asked, quite pleasantly startled.

"Yeah you know. That TV-5 machine." She continued.

"T5-V." He corrected her, a little irritated.

"Yeah, whatever." The Fury said. "The thing is... I was worrying about you in that thing, Frank."

"Worrying about me? Really? What's there to worry about?" The Destroyer continued, not entirely sure just where she was going here.

"Well it's just that... it looks intimidating, sure. It's certainly very useful." The Fury explained. "But It also looks like a coffin. Sometimes it's hard to imagine there's someone inside that thing. It worries me to imagine you, surrounded by all that machinery, all those different ways to kill something. Surely you understand, right?"

"Well I've..." He stuttered his words. l've never quite thought of it that way."

"Never ever?" She asked.

"Well I don't... tend to think about stuff like that, Fur... Caroline." He insisted, finding it difficult to talk coherently at the moment.

"Please, Frank." The Fury said.

She placed a hand on his knee, stirring up some strange feeling within him. Her touch was gentle, feeling ever so much like how she had once held his hand so long ago. It made the Destroyer hot to think about things like this.

"Please." She said. "You would tell me if anything was worrying you. Wouldn't you?"

"Well now, Caroline." He uttered quietly. "Since you're being so sincere. I suppose I do get a little angry sometimes. Like, when I've got my hands around something delicate, it does get a little hard to remember when I'm not wearing the suit."

The Fury only listened intently. She held a smile on her face that, combined with the touch on his knee, was making the Destroyer feel very relaxed.

"But I have to know." He said. "Why are you so concerned about me?"

"Because..." She said. "I care. You know?"

Again, she had that smile. The Destroyer thought that there may have been some kind of meaning to these words. Yet, he was having quite a hard time figuring things out in this relaxed atmosphere the two had created around them.

"Frank..." She said, edging just a little closer to him.

"Look, Fury." He cut her off. "I... appreciate you caring. But I'm really tired here, so right now I would really like to go to bed if you don't mind."

And quite abruptly, he brushed her off him and got up. He most likely would have gone right off to bed without casting her a second look, had she not been a little bit more assertive.

"Wait. Wait, Destroyer, let's sort this out now." She exclaimed, getting up.

"Sort what out?" He asked.

"Look the reason..." She began. "The reason I'm so concerned about you is because... it's because. It's because I'm scared."

"Scared, Fury?" He repeated, almost taunting her.

"Scared about this damn war." She continued. "Scared about... about people going off and never seeing each other again because they get themselves killed and never having a chance to say just how much they feel about each other, that's what I'm scared about!"

The Fury was breathing profusely. She had not expected to have quite the mouthful to say.

"Just what exactly are you confessing here... Lucrezia?!" The Destroyer asked.

"Oh Frank, you dumb fool." She said. "Don't you understand? Don't you get it?"

She was smiling again. Fresh tears were slowly streaming down her face, already stained by ones she had cried earlier.

"Yeah. I get it." The Destroyer remarked. "I don't think so."

"...What?" She asked, not quite hearing him right.

"You heard me, no." He elaborated.

"No. No, what do you mean no?!" She asked, beginning to sound alarmed.

"I mean no. I'm not doing that." The Destroyer was all the more happy to explain himself.

"No to what?" The Fury was all the more defiant to ask him what.

"_To you!_" He responded. "Having you. Doing you. Being with you. No, I am not doing that."

The Fury was having trouble properly understanding him. Well actually, he understood him perfectly, she was just having a hard time actually believing him.

"Wha... why not?!" She defiantly asked.

"Because that is something I absolutely do not need right now!" He retorted.

Now different kinds of tears were beginning to stream down the Fury's face.

"No. No no no. Please, please don't say that." She pleaded, moving forwards and making an effort to hold him.

"Fury, don't!" He cried out, grabbing hold of her arm.

His mighty hand caught her petite form in one swift motion. The Fury remained in his grip, caught quite off guard by this very threatening display of strength. The Destroyer held her in a tight and painful hold for only a few seconds, before he realised just what he was doing to her. He abruptly let go, dropping the frail Fury to the ground. She remained there, shaking all over in response to what had just happened. She looked up at him, a mixture of shock and fear upon her while he remained still, breathing heavily staring back at her, trying to come to terms with what he has done.

Eventually, the Destroyer pulled himself together, as he managed to get his breathing under control. He slowly bent down towards the silent Shadow, and lifted her gently, off the floor.

"Sorry about that." He apologised quite formally, clearing his throat.

The Fury still remained quiet.

"Look err..." The Destroyer continued. "I'm _really_ tired now. We'll umm, talk about this tomorrow."

Seeing there was nothing else he could think of that could perhaps get a response from her, the Destroyer bid a hasty goodnight before making an equally hasty retreat. The Fury only remained motionless on the spot for a few more moments before she suddenly became aware of just how tired she was after the whole ordeal, and decided to go off to bed herself...

* * *

"Cupcake? Cupcake!" Hans was attempting to prod the vorcha awake. "Come on get up, please?"

Cupcake could hear the quarian calling to him, wishing he was a thousand miles away right now.

"Not now. Later." He snarled back, laying brushing him off and edging over to try and get himself back to sleep.

"Yes now." Hans persisted, not one for giving up, even if he was still very tired himself. "Come on, you can sleep on the shuttle."

"Don't want to sleep on the shuttle. Want to sleep now!" The vorcha equally persisted.

"Oh for the love of... why can't you adapt to have shorter sleep patterns?" Hans called out. "You know I'm going to get you up anyway regardless. Please don't make this anymore difficult, I'm not in the mood."

All Cupcake did was snarl back before retreating once again into a sleep he had no chance of properly returning to.

"Okay Cupcake." Hans said. "This is your last chance. I'm warning you here. Are you sure you want to do this?"

No response.

"Okay Cupcake." He said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Hans began by lighting up his Omni-Tool, instantly manifesting in its orange glow around his arm. He tinkered with it for a few seconds, before it was suddenly engulfed in artificial, but effective flames. He braced himself, before raising his flaming arm high and bringing it down upon the vorcha's head with a hard thump. Cupcake was thrown off the bench he had been slumbering on and onto the cold floor. Not that that mattered too much, because his whole head was engulfed in fire. Instantly, he got to his feet and had half a mind to bear his claws and give the quarian a taste of his own medicine. But fortunately for Hans, he was too tired to bother.

"Oh why do you have to do that!?" He angrily scolded Hans, not paying too much attention to the fact that his head was on fire. "I was just about to get up, you know!"

"Really?" Hans said, finding it a little hard to believe him. "Well anyway, can we please get going now?"

Cupcake huffed in response, but complied regardless and followed him.

It was two days later. Or a day and a half, or maybe just one long day, depending on how one had used the rather warped time cycle of the Citadel. Hans on one, was quite frankly glad to finally be getting back to the action; it had been nice to get away from all the conflict, even if Cerberus had somewhat spoiled it. But as it had turned out, there was really not a lot of uses for entertainment for a quarian on the Citadel as he had expected.

After one or two elevator rides, the two eventually arrived at the hangers where their shuttles awaited them, ready to ferry them back to the front. Finding the one destined for them, they were surprised to find that the rest of their little team had yet to arrive.

"Guess we must be early." Hans remarked upon the sight.

"So I didn't need to get up right now then." Cupcake added bitterly.

"Hey, I only came after you because I knew you had no chance of finding this place on your own." He replied.

Cupcake growled at him. Clearly he was not in a good mood today. Quite strange, considering how eager he should have been to return to the front, where he could dive right back into the bloodshed he instinctively craved.

"What's up, guys!" A voice called out to them.

The pair only had a moment to try and find the source when they heard the unmistakable sounds of propulsion packs as an armoured turian soon rocketed over to them, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Again, you really can't help showing those off, Attacus." Hans remarked, sounding hardly surprised.

"Nice to see you two, Hans." The turian remarked, settling down besides them.

Attacus was all set for the return to the fight. He had a rifle in his hands in addition to his suit.

"Well how about we get this show on the road fellas." He boisterously exclaimed.

"Well we could do that." Hans said. "But in case you forgot, we are still one member short."

"We are." Attacus queried. "Oh, of course we are."

"What do you suppose she's up to?" Cupcake asked the pair.

"I don't really know, but I hope it doesn't take her that long." Hans replied. "I'm not really one for waiting. And don't you go off to sleep again..."

"Well, this is our last elevator." The Demolisher remarked.

"Yeah." The Shadow replied unenthusiastically.

The elevator soon opened and the pair entered. It promptly closed and set off, leaving the pair alone.

"So, err." The Shadow began. "I guess this is goodbye."

"Not for ever, now." The Demolisher was quick to clarify.

"How can you be sure about that?" She asked bitterly.

"Hey, if you can survive what happened to you here, then I think you'll be okay." The Demolisher reminded her, awfully optimistically.

"Oh. Sure I can." The Shadow acknowledged.

She did not continue. On one hand, she so desperately wanted to continue speaking, just to savour every last moment she had with the Demolisher before they would be separately once again. The Demolisher could obviously tell what was bothering her. She turned to face her, taking one hand in hers and lifting the other so they were now very close to one another.

"Come on Shadow." She began. "You don't think I wouldn't start a relationship unless I didn't think there was any chance of continuing it, would you? I thought you knew me."

"No. I never meant that." The Shadow began. "It's just that... now we've done this. It just makes saying all the more difficult."

"Shadow." She said. "We're going to part now. And I won't you to promise that you won't go putting yourself in any needlessly dangerous situations like the one that nearly cost you your leg. You have a team, a good team, and I want you to stick by them no matter what happens, because if you go and get yourself killed after what we've been through, I swear I am going to be _so mad at you._"

"...Oh Demo." The Shadow cried. "Oh Demo."

Clearly words were not enough for her, as she pulled the woman towards her and kisses her like she had never kissed another before.

A small moment of tranquility that did not last for long, as the elevator doors soon slid open, forcing the two apart.

"This is your stop, Shadow." The Demolisher remarked.

The Shadow took a deep breath.

"Love you." She uttered.

"Just get going." The Demolisher hasty replied, before pushing her put of the elevator doors.

The Shadow had one last moment to look at her before the image of the Demolisher was soon barred by the elevator doors sliding close. She lingered on the spot, her eyes unmoving, before she took another deep breath and forced herself away from the doors and off to her destination...

Elsewhere, the armoured figure of an Armiger Legion turian was hurrying alone the crowded hallways towards the hangers. It would have been much easier for him to use this trusty propulsion packs on his boots to ensure a speedy passage, but there were far too many people in front of him that would ensure a fairly hazardous passage. He was not speeding along for much longer, when the nimble figure of a drell caught up to him.

"Going somewhere Tyderius?" He asked.

"Kolemun, you late too?" The turian asked back.

"Late? Who says I'm late? Is that why you're going so fast?" The drell continued.

"Oh enough." Tyderius replied, slowing down as he grew weary from within his heavy armour.

"You know I had the strangest encounter just now." Kolemun remarked.

"Oh I'm sorry, are we having a conversation now?" Tyderius announced.

"Well, I assumed that since you slowed down, you'd be open to discussion." He wittily replied.

"Well no I... oh fine, go now." Tyderius conceded.

"Oh good. So anyway." Kolemun began. "I just had some asari..."

"Our asari?" The turian queried.

"No not our asari. Some other asari." He clarified. "So anyway, I just had some asari accusing me of stealing her grenades."

"Stealing her grenades?" Tyderius parroted back.

"Yeah, stealing her grenades." He continued. "At first, I act professionally and say: I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't even know you and I haven't stolen anything in all my life. Then she's all like: Oh my mistake sir, must have been a different drell I have a hard time telling you apart. Then I of course get offended, so I start getting defensive and going on at her, and then her friend comes over and starts to pull the two of use apart because we're really starting to cause a scene here and that... that's it."

Tyderius needed a moment. "That's it?"

"Yeah." The drell replied. "Strange, isn't it?"

"...Sure." The turian acknowledged.

It was not too much longer before the two of them had found their hangar, and the shuttle inside that awaited them.

"See, what were you so concerned about?" Kolemun asked as they clambered aboard.

"Well in my experience, when it comes to war, a turian never wants to be late." Tyderius said defensively.

"Sounds like clumsy experience to me." Kolemun said. "Anyway..."

"Hey you, two." A nearby voice quietly said.

They turned, and found the diminutive figure of the Fury hunched against a corner of the row of seats alongside the shuttle's wall. She looked as if she was reluctant to be seen.

"Oh, saluto Lucrezia." Tyderius wasted no time in making her feel right at home on the front.

"La Furia." Kolemun said, much more formally.

The Fury simply weakly laughed in response. Unusual for her, as she mostly reacted with embarrassment at their attempts at simulating her roots.

"Hey..." Tyderius said, sitting next to her and putting on an authentic voice of concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She replied dismissively.

"You know, in my experience." Kolemun said, settling himself down opposite them. "When you have to ask whether someone's fine. And they say that they are fine. Then they're not fine."

"...Yeah, what he said." Tyderius acknowledged.

"Look... I don't want to talk about it." The Fury replied.

"Why not. We're gonna be together for a while, why not get it out of your system?" Kolemun suggested.

"Again, what he said." Tyderius agreed.

"O... why not.?" She relented, turning to face them. "Have any of you ever been in a relationship?"

"Well, well. Once in my younger years. It's been so long, I forget the details." Tyderius said, surprisingly forthcoming consisting the question.

"You know, it's funny." Kolemun said. "But I'm not entirely sure what a female drell even looks like."

"Why do you ask?" Tyderius pressed. "Oo, are you in a relationship now?!"

"Don't be stupid." Kolemun scolded. "If she was in a relationship, don't you think she would far more forthcoming then she is. Her tone obviously indicates that she has experienced something that has severely damaged her relationship with someone... I'm guessing."

"Good guess." The Fury commended him, for it really was a good guess.

"Oh belladonna." Tyderius said dramatically. "Forgive me for my ignorance, you must be feeling so terrible right now."

"I was. Now I'm just a little sad." She replied.

"Well sorry for your... developments." Kolemun said. "But onto more pressing matters. Are there not supposed to be four of us?"

"I think that's right." The Fury said, glad to move the conversation onwards.

"She's not tucked away in the corner again is she?" Kolemun asked.

"Don't worry comrades, I will find here." Tyderius said, flashing up his Omni-Tool. "Oh. Oh no."

"What? Where is she?" The Fury asked.

"Well, not here." He responded...

"Really?" The Slayer questioned the Paladin. "How long have we known each other and now you bring up that you have children."

"I don't have children." The Paladin clarified. "I have a child. And she's hardly a child anymore."

"Yeah yeah, but really..." He continued. "Why the pressing need to bring this up now."

"Well with things being the way they are. I'd figured you would, you know have some advice." The Paladin continued hopefully.

"Advice? I'm not a parent, pal." He said. "And you really shouldn't be asking me right now. Because that sounds a lot like you're trying to deflect responsibility."

"I know, I know." The Paladin cried out. "I know how pathetic I must sound. I was perfectly contend to go on ignoring her, but now that I know about her situation, I'm feeling this kind of... err..."

"Horrible sense of regret on account of cutting all ties with your only child and throwing yourself into a war in the hopes that you'll somehow forget what a terrible father you've been?" The Slayer quickly elaborated for him.

The Paladin was initially silent.

"...Yeah, something like that." He quietly acknowledged.

"Well in that case." The Slayer continued. "Are you feeling regret that you couldn't spend more time with her on account of the war? Of maybe a sense of powerlessness that there is very little you can do for her situation?"

"... You know, you're pretty good at this." He remarked. "You have similar experiences you're not telling me?"

"...Maybe." The Slayer replied. "But we're not talking about me here, are we."

"No, no." The Paladin continued.

"Well look at it this way." The Slayer continued. "The only thing you can do is to go out and do your best. Your very best, because it would really suck for you to go and get yourself killed and disappoint your family like that."

"I think I get it." The Paladin remarked. "The only thing is, it was that same kind of attitude that made me distance myself from her to begin with. So I guess you were right. I am worried about spending no more time with her."

"So do your best. Like I said." He continued. "And she will be your motivation, the only thing that will keep you going through this war. And when you next see her, you can spend more time with her then, right."

"That's the idea, then." The Paladin remarked. "Thanks for the advice, Slayer."

"Just as long as I can count on you coming to my side should I get any small crises." The Slayer reminded him.

"Oh of course." He acknowledged. "But in regards to that, I have to know: Do you have someone close to you. Someone that can help you through this war?"

"...Well." The Slayer defectively said.

"Hey there sir! You coming?" A familiar voice called out to them.

The Slayer turned his head. "I'll be right there, Lillian."

The N5 gave a reassuringly wave before heading off.

"Well, duty calls." The Slayer remarked, getting up to join his other teammate. "Be seeing you Paladin."

"Good luck out there." He replied.

"Yeah yeah." The Slayer dismissed him, before heading off...

The Destroyer sat alone in the shuttle, eagerly awaiting the moment when it would soon launch off for space and into the enemies' arms. As he had found out, this sort of break had not been quite to his liking. Though it had only been two days since the Cerberus attack, he had grown far too longing for the comfort of the T5-V suit, for there was a brooding feeling that after all this sitting around he may have forgotten how to fight properly. The Destroyer wanted to get right back into, for it was far more satisfying to blast away at Reapers and Cerberus, living every moment like it was the last, not having to worry about all that other, _relationship_ stuff that was making him feel so bad for some reason.

"...Hey. Hey, hello? You awake in there?" He heard voices go.

"Ross. Georgina. How are you." He greeted them formally. "I'm alright."

The pair climbed aboard and sat themselves opposite him. Together, side by side as it turned out. Unusual for them, he could not recall a time when they done something like that before.

"Now where is that quarian?" Georgina asked rhetorically.

"She'll turn up. Just sit tight, okay?" Ross informed her.

"If you say so." She replied, with an unusual caring tone.

It was just then that the Destroyer noticed what was most unusual about the pair of them.

"Err, Ross. Georgina." He began. "Why are you holding hands?"

Ross looked to his right in alarm, apparently unaware that Georgina had snaked her hand around his.

"Oh that! Well that's just..." He defensively said, trying to unlink the pair of them.

"That's just us holding hands." Georgina said defiantly, keeping her grip upon Ross tight.

"Yes, and why are you doing it?" The Destroyer repeated coldly.

"Because..." Ross attempted.

"Because we just happen to find it nice and cosy when we hold hands." Georgina replied insistently.

"I... see." The Destroyer replied.

"Why? Is there a problem with it?" Georgina asked, almost daring him to say there was.

"No. Not at all." He replied warmly. "Are you okay there Ross?"

"Me. Oh sure! Sure I am!" Ross responded enthusiastically, even if his actions seemed to say otherwise.

"Good. Well carry on." The Destroyer said, ignoring the unusual jolt of regret threatening to unhinged him...

"Here she is!" Tyderius exclaimed. "Coreen?!"

He gently prodded the slumbering fugues of the asari, quite cautiously considering what a disturbed asari could be like. Needless to say, Coreen the asari was nothing like that, for when she was brought back into the world of the living, she immediately attempted to retreat back into the world of the slumbering.

"No, not today. I'll do it later." She moaned incomprehensibly, shaking the turian away and tucking herself back into the corner she had been asleep in.

"What is she on about?" The Fury groaned.

"She's halfway between awake and asleep, she's probably on about nothing." Kolemun explained. "Coreen! Come on already."

"Shove off! I don't have to answer to you...you weird, Ardat thingy." Coreen replied, or _attempted_ to reply.

"This is going to be difficult isn't it?" Kolemun remarked.

"It would seem so." Tyderius reasoned. "Okay Coreen, this is your last chance to..."

"I'm up! What'd I miss!" The asari suddenly sprung up from her spot, turning from dozy to fully awake in about a second.

"Oh! Umm... we were about to head off now." Tyderius quietly responded, quite taken back by her sudden shift.

"Alrighty then. Let's go, slowcoaches!" Coreen exclaimed, before taking off at a surprisingly swift pace.

"Does she even know where she's going?" Kolemun asked aloud.

* * *

**Whew, wasn't that fun. I don't know, this was unusually, unbelievably excruciating to write, so I would really, _really_ like some appreciation. Or acknowledgement of lack of appreciation. This may be the last chapter, I don't really know if I motivate myself into continuing this.**

**So, see you in a few months. Or a few years, I don't know. **


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